#thebiggerbear

[thebiggerbear]

Dean Winchester x Reader - Prompt Response - "Sleep. I'll keep you safe."

Summary: When Sam calls to tell you that Dean is gone, you can't accept it. Not until you visit the offline Bunker and see for yourself. ...But is he really gone?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader; Dean Winchester x Huntress!Female!Reader

A/N: Prompt from @thelonelyempath. I had this idea for a scene in my head that took place during 15x20 with the reader and Sam & then from there it just kind of wrote itself, including the semi-twist. Hope it's okay.

There is a song mentioned in here ("Is This Love" by Whitesnake) which is a sort of homage/dedication/thank you. I read this Dean x Reader fic a long time ago (I can't remember the name of the fic or the author right now, I'm sorry!) but they used the song for some Dean/Reader time in the Impala and I had never heard the song before so I checked it out. I have become obsessed with it. It's so perfect, not only for Dean but in general as an 80s love rock ballad. So thank you to that author whoever you are!

This is meant to take place between mid-15x20 and Dean's foray in The Winchesters (pre-series).

Unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Warnings: angst; mentions of character death; mentions of implied sex

Word Count: 12k+

Dean Taglist: @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl; @brightlilith

"Sleep. I'll keep you safe."

Soldier Boy version | Beau version | Jenny version | Tom version | Jason version | Anael version | SDV Alex version

You sat on the corner of the bed in your motel room, numb, your phone next to you, having been forgotten long ago. 

It couldn’t be true. It wasn’t. You refused to believe it. How was Dean just gone? On a simple hunt? How?

Sam had called you to give you the news. You could hear the breaks in his voice as he relayed what happened, sounding as if he had been crying just a few minutes before. Vampires. Who were mute. A gang of them run by a vampire named Jenny they had faced off with years ago. On a hunt with John. She had gotten away and they thought she was gone for good. Apparently not.

You were frozen, in shock, unable to process what he was telling you. 

“Y/N?”

“I… I need to see him,” you whispered.

Sam was quiet for a moment before he forced out, “I gave him a hunter’s funeral.”

You shut your eyes in pain. “What?” You could feel your throat tightening as well as your chest.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, but I had to. I couldn’t…” You heard him take a breath. “I couldn’t make the long drive with… I just couldn’t.” You could hear those breaks again and you should have been hurting for him, that not only did he have to watch his brother die but he’d had to burn him alone. But right then you got angry and you couldn’t help snapping at him.

“Why would you burn his body, Sam? You know we need his body to bring him back!”

“Y/N, he didn’t want to be brought back.”

“You don’t know that!”

“Yeah, I do. He told me right before he died. As long as I was going to be okay,” Another break. “He was done.”

A tear rolled down your cheek and regret immediately consumed you. You knew Sam was telling you the truth. Dean making sure Sam would be okay as he was dying clinched it for you. Sam had always been his main concern. You started mentally berating yourself then. If only you hadn’t let fear stop you, you could have given him something to live for, to fight for. He would have let Sam call for help, call Jack, something. He would have made sure he somehow made it home, just like he always did. But you didn’t and now, he was gone. Truly and irrevocably gone.

Another tear slipped down your cheek and you quickly wiped it away. “I have to go, Sam.”

“Y/N, I—”

You ended the call and tossed the phone onto the bed. You weren’t trying to be heartless. Sam was obviously struggling and you should be there for him. That’s what Dean would want, you knew that. The two of you being there for each other, helping one another, you looking after his little brother while he looked out for you. But you just…couldn’t.

Why hadn’t you called Dean? After everything that went down with Chuck and Jack? Why hadn’t you reached out? You owed him that at the very least. So why hadn’t you?

You knew the answer to that. You were scared and like a coward, you’d told yourself it wouldn’t have made a difference. It wouldn’t have changed anything. But a part of you knew it would and that scared you just as much.

You thought back to the last time you’d seen him, right after he and Sam went to try to get Amara on board against Chuck. He was still reeling with the news that Cas had told him before he’d left, that Jack was going to sacrifice himself to kill Chuck. He cared about Jack, more than he let on, even though the kid had accidentally killed Mary. Jack was family to him and he was having a serious moment of doubt. If Jack’s plan would work; if he should let it happen; if he should tell Sam; if Chuck hadn’t been right, he would win in the end. He was so beyond tired of that: Chuck winning. He didn’t want to sacrifice Jack but if they could be free of Chuck and have a chance… 

He was torn up about it and he’d called you, asked you where you were, then begged you to come to the Bunker when he found out you were only an hour or so away. You hadn’t wanted to, you could hear the desperation in his voice and you knew all too well what would happen if you went. You were still hurting and you didn’t know if you could survive that. 

You didn’t bother telling him that the reason you were an hour outside of town was because you’d temporarily settled there, not sure where to go or what to do. Sure, you took on hunts here and there, but ultimately you were lost. Ever since Dean broke things off with you because he couldn’t tell what was real anymore versus what had been Chuck all along. The breakup had hurt, of course, but that caused pain in you that you weren’t really sure you would ever come back from. Him thinking everything between you might not be real? After you’d given him everything you could because you deeply loved him? In your heart, you knew it was real, but when you had said this to him, he’d simply responded with “I don’t” in his typical detached way he adopted whenever he had made up his mind that he had to do something for the greater good, no matter how hard it might be. You thought he had already broken your heart, but it shattered right then in your chest.

Since it was Dean, though, and he never begged, you went. And sure enough, what you worried would happen, happened. One minute, you’d been wiping the rare tears he let fall around you, and the next minute, he was kissing you and gently pushing you back onto his bed. You could feel the desperation in his movements, his touches, the way his lips trailed over your skin. Shockingly, he took his time with you, and it only hit you halfway through that this was his real goodbye. It wasn’t guaranteed that Billie’s plan would work but he hoped it would. And if it did, then that meant he and Sam would finally be free and they could hang it up if they wanted to, do something else with their lives and move on. And that possible future didn’t include you. 

You’d silently cried then, holding onto Dean as he moved and moaned into your ear. When he pulled back to kiss you, your cheeks were free of any tear tracks and you kissed him back. You wondered how on earth he couldn’t feel that this was very real between you as you moved your hips to meet his in a tender rhythm as he held you in his lap, his green eyes staring into yours as he held you close. Sex was sex but this right here, this right in between you right then that he refused to put a name to, it was beyond real. You knew he could feel it just as much as you could…so why was he still hellbent on throwing it (and you) away?

A little while later, you had laid there, with his head on your chest, running your fingers through his hair in soothing strokes, his body still entangled with yours, staring up at the ceiling as you both were still trying to catch your breath. Your heart spoke for you before you could stop it. “I love you,” you whispered, meaning it with every fiber of your being.

It shocked the hell out of you and made something warm and fluttery happen inside your chest when he sleepily murmured to your skin, “Love y’too. Don’go.” You ended up chalking it up to him being in a post-sex sleep daze though, not knowing what he was really saying or even really having heard you correctly. That or he only meant for the night because the very next morning, things went back to how they were.

Dean seemed surprised when he woke up to find you next to him, scrolling through the news feed on your phone for any new cases. You’d given him a warm smile. “Hey, sleepyhead,” you teased.

Instead of smiling back, though, he cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. “Hey.” You could see that familiar detached expression settle on his features and you knew he was regretting the night before. He had been drinking by the time you got there, sure, but he hadn’t been inebriated. He was incredibly lucid by the time he made a move on you so try as he might, this couldn’t be chalked up to a drunken mistake.

You could literally feel that wall going back up and you gave one last ditch effort to keep him from shutting you back out, even laying a hand over his. “Dean, don’t—”

He pulled away from you and got out of bed, quickly slipping on his Scooby Doo boxers and jeans that he grabbed from the floor. You might have smiled seeing the familiar underwear that you hated but secretly loved if you weren’t hurting so much. “I’m hungry. You hungry?” He asked, slipping a black t-shirt over his head. “I’ll go see if Sam’s cooking anything up. I need a serious cup of coffee. You just…” He glanced back at you, seeing you holding the sheet tightly to your chest as you watched him, compulsively swallowing when he saw your eyes glistening. “You, uh, just come out when you’re ready.” He then made his way out of the room, closing the door behind him and never looking back. 

You sat back against the headboard, dissolving into a fit of tears and quiet sobs. You knew you should have never come. Once you were able to breathe without fresh tears welling up, you got yourself cleaned up and redressed. You splashed some water on your face and you took a deep breath before leaving the room. You were near the bunker stairs when Sam called out to you.

“Hey! Y/N!” 

He was coming over to you, a big smile on his face. He was pleased to see you.

“Hey,” you greeted back just as warmly, forcing a smile.

He gave you a quick hug and you could see Jack a little ways behind him, giving you a smile and wave. “I didn’t know you were here. We were just about to have breakfast. Why don’t you join us?”       

“Oh, I…”

You were saved from having to make an excuse when Dean appeared next to Jack, his expression severe and cold all at the same time. “She’s got a hunt she’s heading out for. Possible vamp nest in Duluth. Right, Y/N?”

Just when you thought he couldn’t hurt you even more, there he went proving you wrong. “Right,” you agreed quietly. You turned a wan smile onto Sam. “I’ll take a raincheck.”

“Duluth?” Sam glanced from his brother to you. “Maybe we can give you a hand on this one.”

“We can’t,” Dean stated firmly. He gave his brother a look and Sam’s brows furrowed before realization played upon his features and his jaw tightened. He turned apologetic hazel eyes onto you. “Donna’s up that way. If she needs a hand, she can call her,” Dean added.

You felt sick to your stomach. Obviously, you weren’t heading to Duluth or anywhere near Minnesota but the way he dismissed you so casually…the pain was overwhelming. The smile you kept on Sam turned into more of a grimace. “I appreciate the offer, Sam, but I’m good. Like your brother said, I can call Donna if I need anything. Don’t worry. Thanks, though.” You squeezed his arm and then turned to make your way up the stairs.

“Best of luck,” Dean gruffed out. You turned to see pure ice staring back at you. 

You pressed your lips together to keep from falling apart right there, from demanding why Dean had obviously only called you for sex and a pick-me-up when there plenty of women in Lebanon that could do that for him, from begging him to wake up and see you were right in front of him and that what you had was very much real before it was too late. Instead, you continued climbing the stairs. 

“Keep us updated and give us a call if you need anything,” Sam called after you.

“Will do,” you forced out.

“Good luck,” Jack offered.

When you reached the top, you glanced once more at Dean. His expression hadn’t changed one bit. The green gaze staring back at you was cold, hard. You let out a huff and shook your head, turning to open the door and close it behind you. That had been the very last time you saw him.

After that, you went back to the motel you had been renting a room in, packed up, and headed across state lines. You ignored Dean’s calls but took Sam’s. 

Apparently, at some point, you had vanished when Chuck disappeared everyone. You had no idea until Donna filled you in. That explained the several missed calls from both Sam and Dean and the voicemails they left. Both had sounded desperate, especially Dean. 

“Please, Y/N. I know you’re pissed at me and I get it but please call me back. Or call Sam. I don’t care. Just as long as we know you’re still with us and that you’re okay.” His tone sounded rough around the edges but considering the context Sam gave you when you did call him (there was no way you were calling Dean, especially not now), you realized they were just desperate to get in touch with anyone, having lost Cas and being the only three forms of life left on the planet.

Dean was right, you were angry. Angry that he’d used you that night, angry that he’d broken your heart in the first place. He had pursued you before you got together, not the other way around. By the time you let your guard down enough to let him in and things kicked off between you, he was deep in. Or so he’d said. By the time he ended things, you were deep in yourself. Now…now you were in even deeper thanks to him, so deep you were pretty sure Dean would haunt you the rest of your life no matter how you tried to shut him out of your heart.

Another tear rolled down your cheek. Though, you’d never meant the word haunt literally.

You wiped your face with your sleeve and let out an aggravated breath before getting to your feet. You grabbed your coat, your emergency bag, your hunting bag, and the car keys from the table near the door. You locked up and got into the car you only used for hunts and grocery trips now, starting it and backing out of the driveway. 

It’s not that you doubted what Sam had told you or Sam himself, but you needed to see things for yourself. You turned the car in the direction that would lead you to Kansas.

You opened the door to the Bunker, seeing nothing but darkness greeting you, the clanking of the door being the only sound to echo in the large chamber. That was strange. They never shut it down when they left for hunts. You hit the lights and hearing a loud thrumming sound, you watched as they came back on, one by one. You had your own key since you were also a Legacy. You’d never been more thankful for that fact when you arrived to find the Bunker locked down, no Sam in sight.

You shut the door behind you and dropped your bags near the table. You bit your lip to keep your eyes from welling up when you noticed an unfinished chess game on the table, most likely one that Dean and Cas had been engaged in, but now neither of them would be back to complete it. Instead, you focused on the matter at hand. You pulled your gun out and an angel blade, slipping the latter into your coat pocket in case you needed it. In the other pocket, you slipped a flask of holy water and a small piece of iron bar you could wield if need be. In your gun sat silver bullets; you couldn’t be too careful nowadays. Especially if the word was out to the world of the supernatural that Dean Winchester was gone and only Sam was left now, alone. 

You slowly made your way down the stairs, listening intently for any other noises you might hear. All that you could make out besides your footsteps was the low hum of electricity that was commonplace for the old bunker. You cleared the library, the hallways, the kitchen, the shower room, the infirmary, the Dean Cave where you’d been forced to watch The Lost Boys and slasher films more times than you cared to count (you had dug your teeth into your bottom lip to keep from crying when you saw the DVD cover of Tombstone left near the TV), every single room in the place until you came to the one that made a lump form in your throat. You swallowed it back down and forced yourself to focus, raising your gun that much higher. You opened the door and hit the lights, scanning every which way. The room was clear.

You lowered your gun and made your way inside, the lump in your throat back again. Your eyes roamed over the hastily made bed; the empty dog bowls on the floor (which made your brows furrow in confusion slightly); the messy desk; the empty beer bottles on the table; the headphones on the nightstand; the shotguns on the wall; the books scattered about; the load of laundry sitting off to the right in a corner. Memories washed over you and your eyes began to sting as tears welled up. 

You’d walked into the room to find Dean jamming out on his bed, listening to music through the headphones he’d insisted on buying on your last trip. You huffed out a laugh and dropped the laundry basket of folded clothes onto the bed, garnering his attention. 

He opened his eyes and glanced up to find you smiling at him. 

“What are you listening to?”

He held one of the phones away from his ear and you could hear some serious strumming of heavy metal guitar coming out of it. “Huh?”

“I said, what are you listening to?” You asked a little louder.

“What?” He nearly yelled.

You picked up the top item from your pile, his Scooby Doo underthings, and playfully tossed it at him. It landed squarely on his chest and he immediately jumped up as if it had burned him, his cheeks turning redder by the second as he threw the headphones onto the bed.

“You did my laundry?” He asked in horror.

Amazing. You two had explored every single inch of each other time and time again, been sort of rooming together for the past month, but he was embarrassed that you washed his dirty underwear?

You shrugged and began to place his folded clothes on the bed. “I had room in the washer so I figured I’d grab yours, too. You’re welcome.”

“You washed our clothes together?” He sounded genuinely surprised.

You gasped and gave him a mock look of horror. “Oh no, not together.” You tossed a pair of jeans over at him and he caught it in time. “I used detergent, fabric softener, dryer sheets, and everything,” you teased. “But putting it away is where I draw the line, pal. That’s on you.” You pointed to the neat pile sitting on the bed before moving over to the door to head to the room you kept your things in down the hall. 

Arms wrapped around you from behind, stopping your trek, and Dean murmured into your ear, “You washed my clothes for me?”

“And folded, too,” you pointed out. “Don’t forget that.”

“Mmm, what else can I get you to do for me?” He grabbed the basket from you and placed it down before gripping your hips and moving in to kiss your neck.

“Hey, I’m not your maid. I had room in the washer, that was it. Don’t get used to this,” you laughed before digging your teeth into your lip when you felt his tongue on a particular part of your skin. 

“What if I want to get used to this?” He moved up to your jaw line.

“I’d say you’re SOL. Unless…”

“Unless?” He hummed near your lips.

“Unless you finally let me tidy up this room a little.”

His head shot up, frowning down at you. “What? Why, what’s wrong with how it is now?”

“Well,” You wrapped your arms around his neck. “Some of these papers on the desk need organizing, the books can be put in a stack on the table over there, these empty beer bottles can be thrown out, the shotguns you have near the bed can be put away…”

“There’s nothing wrong with anything you just mentioned,” he grumbled.

“Oh, really? So the other night when you were doing that thing—”

“That thing you really like,” he interrupted, smirking cockily at you.

You had to keep from rolling your eyes and smirking yourself. “When I moved, I knocked into the shotgun and it fell. It almost went off. You remember that?”

“Nothing happened or went off, well, except you.” His smirk got even bigger. “You remember that?”

This time you gently swatted at his shoulder. “Dean.”

He heard the warning in your no-nonsense tone and laughed, leaning in to kiss you. “Alright,” he whispered to your lips. “I’ll put the shotguns up out of the way. But everything else stays.”

You huffed out an exasperated breath. One of these days when he wasn’t looking, you swore you’d do as exactly as you’d suggested. Clear out the empty bottles and stack the books at the very least. 

“Hey, it’s all about compromise, right? Speaking of that,” He turned you around in his arms and you were once again facing the laundry basket he’d left on the floor. “Find a space and keep some of ‘em in here.”

A pleasant shock ran through you. “Are you sure?” You whispered.

He slowly turned you back around and gently cupped your chin. “Yeah, sweetheart, I’m sure. You’re practically sleeping in here every night, anyway. I’d rather you not have to put back on the same clothes from the night before or walk naked down to your room. Then again, naked…”

You glared up at him, making him chuckle and brush his lips against yours. “I just didn’t want to crowd you,” you admitted after a moment. “It’s your space. If I’m in here too much, I can—”

 “I want you here.” You gazed into his green eyes, unsure, but all you saw staring back at you was softness with a glint of earnestness. He was telling you the truth; he really wanted you to stay. 

“Okay,” you agreed with a shy smile.

He beamed at you and then picked you up, making you gasp loudly and wrap your legs around his waist. “Not that you’re gonna be needing them right now.”

You shook your head and kissed him as he walked you both towards the bed. When he had you on it, you could hear the music coming from the forgotten headphones. “Is that…Whitesnake?”

Dean smirked down at you. “Uh huh. One sec.” He reached over, quickly clicked something on his phone, and the music suddenly changed. You smiled when a familiar song started up.

“Really?”

“What? It’s our song.”

You framed his face with your hands, looking up at him affectionately. “Dean Winchester, secretly sentimental and sensitive guy extraordinaire,” you teased him.

“Shut up,” he mumbled. “I’m not any of that crap. It’s the first song we made good use of Baby’s backseat to, that’s all. Now that you’re staying in here, we gotta celebrate.”

Romantic. You rolled your eyes but smiled. “Like I said, sentimental.” You pulled him down to you and kissed him sweetly. Needless to say, he had been right; you hadn’t needed your clothes for a little while.

You took in a ragged breath, your fingers gently touching over the papers on his desk. While you hated the empty beer bottles and you didn’t want to end up possibly shot with a salt round during a passionate moment of sex, you really hadn’t minded how he had things. You knew this was the first home he and Sam ever really had. He could keep things messy or disorganized if he wanted to; he had more than earned the right. It might sound silly to someone else but he deserved to experience living in a home, mess and all, like everyone did at some point in their lives. Not only did he not have a place to do that since he’d been four years old, he’d never felt comfortably settled in anywhere ever to be able to do it. You remembered him and Sam telling you how long it had taken Dean to settle into this room, to think of the Bunker as not just theirs but home. You’d kick the crap out of anyone who tried to take that away from him, and you would be the last person to try to do it yourself. You still thanked him when he hung the shotguns up on the wall; you were beyond grateful. That time, he was the one who went off and quite happily.

A sob nearly tore its way out of your chest when you saw his handwriting on one of the papers. Your fingertips traced each letter. How could he really be gone?

You ran your fingers over an open file, wondering what he had been looking at, when you heard the clicking of nails on the floor behind you. You spun, lifting your gun, to find Sam standing in the doorway, watching you with wide eyes as a dog appeared beside him. That must have been what you’d heard. You lowered the gun and let out a relieved breath. “What are you doing here?”

You winced internally at your question. He had every right to be here, this was his home. You were the intruder.

“The monitoring system we set up… I was alerted that someone was in the Bunker. I locked it down and I know only he and I had the keys, so I didn’t know if…” You watched as he compulsively swallowed.

You turned back to the desk. “I get that. Where were you, by the way? Why did you lock it down?” He didn’t answer for a moment when you glanced over your shoulder at him, seeing his gaze glued to the ground. “Sam?”

His eyes flicked up to yours and he swallowed again. “I was on my way to Austin. For a case. But then…” He gestured towards you. “I turned around and headed back to see.” You noticed he didn’t mention why he had locked the Bunker down but then again, he didn’t really need to. Who else would be coming here now that Dean, Cas, and Jack were gone? Mary was gone as well as most of the other hunters you’d worked with over the past couple of years. Apocalypse World Bobby was still up in Minnesota somewhere. Apocalypse World Charlie and Stevie had moved East, choosing to retire after what happened with Chuck temporarily disappearing everyone. Garth and Bess still lived in their home with their family. Jody and the girls had their own operation up in Sioux Falls with Donna lending a hand every now and then. And you…well, you never told Sam where you were. 

You gave him a slow nod and dropped your eyes back down to the desk, running your fingers over the pages of an open lore book Dean had been reading. It was probably ridiculous but you thought maybe you could somehow still feel him here (though you did not want him to be a ghost), that perhaps by touch or sight or smell even that you could somehow connect to what his last days had been like. You wondered if he somehow knew deep down or if he hadn’t seen it coming. Even though he had always told you that he didn’t see a good ending for himself down the road, that he was forever bound to this life, you knew he also secretly fantasized about his life going in a different direction, one he’d included you in once upon a time. You then wondered if there was a girl somewhere who was either waiting for a phone call she would never get or was crying her eyes out because Sam had given her the news like he had you. It hurt to think that maybe he had found someone that he envisioned another future with instead of you, with someone he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Chuck hadn’t inserted into his life as a manipulation or a story device. Someone that he didn’t question what he had with them, if it was real. Though at the same time, you hoped he found a little piece of happiness. You still loved him enough to want that for him.

You briefly closed your eyes in pain when you remembered that last night you spent with him, telling him you loved him. You truly meant it and even though he hurt you again and again, you still did. You forced the thought away and instead chose to focus on the open book in front of you. “What was he working on?” You choked out, quietly clearing your throat once you heard how rough your voice sounded.

You turned the page, seeing mentions of witches and vampires, when you realized Sam never answered you. You glanced back at him, arching your brows in question.

Sam’s eyes were wide and laser focused on your body, his mouth hanging open. Shit.

You should’ve known that despite the dark clothing you were wearing, the long black coat you were sporting, turning away from him, that you wouldn’t be able to hide your secret much longer. Truthfully, it wasn’t even something you’d thought about when you set out for the bunker. Had Sam been here when you arrived, he probably would have seen it then.

You turned towards the younger Winchester and Sam’s eyes flickered up to you. “Are you…?”

“Yes, Sam.”

Sam closed his mouth and swallowed, glancing back and forth between you and your protruding belly. You read the clear question in his eyes that he was burning to ask.  

“You’re going to be an uncle.”

Except the few times he’d been close to death, you’d never seen Sam look so pale.

You and Sam sat on the edge of Dean’s bed, Miracle (as you’d come to find out was the dog’s name) laid at your feet, his head on his paws.

“How?” Sam finally asked you.

You snorted in amusement. “You know how.”

“No, I mean… Why didn’t you tell Dean? Did you tell Dean? Because he didn’t tell me and I don’t think that’s something he wouldn’t have told me.”

You wet your lips with your tongue, feeling the heavy weight of guilt and sadness wrap around you once more. “No. I didn’t tell him,” you whispered. It was now the biggest regret of your life, right before the second biggest one of you walking out of the bunker the morning you’d last seen him and not fighting harder to get him to let you back in.

“Were you ever going to?”

Your eyes snapped to Sam at the judgment clear as day in his tone and they narrowed. “No, I wasn’t. He made it pretty clear he wanted nothing more to do with me or anything related to me. So, no, Sam, I wasn’t,” you snapped.

He pressed his lips into a thin line and looked down at his lap.

You turned your gaze forward again, taking a breath to tamp down the familiar anger and resentment that you’d worked so hard to try to let go of. After a moment, you rubbed at your forehead. “Yes,” you muttered. “I don’t know. I think so…”

Sam stayed quiet and let you sort through your thoughts which you were grateful for. You’d been caught completely off guard by the pregnancy yourself. When you found out, you thought back to how you unwisely didn’t take your usual precautions and since you and Dean had broken up long before that, you hadn’t been too concerned with maintaining your birth control. 

You’d thought over your options. Bringing a kid into the hunting lifestyle was the worst thing you could do to it. Dean and Sam were living proof. Their mom herself had known it which was why she tried to get out when she married their dad. Not to mention, it would make you vulnerable in your line of work and the kid would always be in danger, always have a target on its back. Plus, you were pretty sure that even if you told Dean, he’d be less than thrilled. He always told you he didn’t want kids, for the very reasons you were now facing. And did you really want to bring a kid into the world that Chuck was about to end, only to have a father who was dismissive of it, or even hated it? You didn’t think Dean would be capable, he’d been great with Jack and Ben after all, but this was different. This kid would have his blood, his genes, would look like him somewhat. Sure, he had that in Emma once and that had torn him up, but this would also be different. This was for the long haul. And that’s only if he even wanted to be in this kid’s life. Which he might opt not to. How could you do that to your child? So you considered choosing to end the pregnancy, which would have been a true mercy given everything stacked against it before it would be born, but eventually you decided otherwise. 

You’d heard the baby’s heartbeat on a checkup while you were still mulling it over, and that was it. Dean wanted to know if what you had was real or not? Here it was, its little heart thumping away deep within your body. After that visit, you’d decided the hell with it. You were someone who believed everything happened for a reason, well before things with Chuck went bad though you still operated on this age-old belief most of the time. You were having a kid, one who would be half of you and half of Dean, the love of your life for all intents and purposes. Though it had hurt when he dismissed you that morning, perhaps this had been the reason why he called you out of the blue, wanting you to come to him, and why you went despite knowing what would most likely happen and how much pain it would cause you.

So you made a decision to start pulling out of hunting. Donna rented her family cabin in Hibbing to you. Bobby hadn’t been back since Mary died so it was sitting empty and unused. You hid the pregnancy as best you could but ultimately, once the first trimester was over and you had popped, you couldn’t hide it anymore. Donna found out though she never knew who the father was. She didn’t pry which you appreciated. When she called you to warn you that Billie was making people disappear left and right, a familiar fear clawed at your chest. Not only fear for your child but also the fear of what if Dean found out about it. That was the only thing that kept you from offering to come down to Kansas to help. 

“We’re going into some place warded to protect us. You should do the same. I can send you pictures of the sigils they’re using.”

“Okay, thanks. Are you sure you’re going to be alright?”

“Yeah, don’t you worry. We’ll figure this out. You just stay safe in the cabin. You and…well, you know.”

You appreciated her staying discreet when you heard Sam’s voice in the background. “I will. Thanks, D.”

“You betcha. Talk soon.”

You hung up and Donna did indeed send you the pictures. You did your best with what you had but it didn’t matter in the end. The last thing you remembered was painting a sigil on the window and then everything went black. The next thing you knew, you were back at the window, your finger extended towards the glass, the half-finished sigil staring back at you. You noticed the sun was in a different position in the sky than it had been and you immediately grabbed your cell phone. Two days had passed. How? 

It hit you then what happened and you dropped the phone with a cry, immediately grabbing at your stomach. You ran for the machine Jody had shipped to you after Donna told her. At the time you’d been annoyed, but right now, you couldn’t be happier at the sheriff knowing about your pregnancy once your baby’s heartbeat echoed throughout the bedroom. You let out a huge sigh of relief, rubbing your belly affectionately. “We had quite a scare there, didn’t we, kiddo?”

It dawned on you then that while you had vanished, you were back, baby and all. Did that mean everyone else was back, too? You went back downstairs for your cell phone and immediately called Donna. Yep, everyone was back, they had all disappeared, and it wasn’t Billie but Chuck who had done it. You asked after Dean and Sam and that was when she told you about Cas and then Jack. You knew both brothers would be devastated, especially Dean, and you considered breaking your radio silence to call him. However, you chickened out at the last second and called Sam instead to check in.

It’s not that a part of you didn’t want to tell Dean he was going to be a father, it was that you were scared of what would happen when you did. Originally, you had feared that he would turn his back on you completely, more importantly on his kid, but now you were worried that maybe it would be the exact opposite. While you would be happy for him to be actively involved in your child’s life as its dad, you also knew Dean. He would try to resume things between you, make it work for the kid’s sake. Just look at how long he tried to make it work with Lisa for Ben’s sake. Not that he didn’t love her and he ended up leaving to protect them, but even Lisa knew his heart wasn’t in it. While that had been for different reasons involving hunting and Sam’s reappearance in his life, he still tried to make it work. But as he’d told you, the family thing didn’t work for him, and besides he already had a family with Sam, Cas, and Jack. You hadn’t missed how he didn’t include you in that group; you supposed you should’ve known then. 

You didn’t want him to fake wanting to be with you just to give your kid some semblance of a family life that Dean himself hadn’t really had. You didn’t know if you could take him forcing himself to kiss you goodnight before turning his back on you every single night. Or forcing a smile when he’d come home after a long day and you were the first thing he saw when he stepped inside. It was a ridiculous fear to have, you knew that, and you should be stronger than this — you were stronger than this. Not to mention, you knew you were being selfish and not at all fair to your baby or Dean. But the images kept replaying over and over in your mind, making you flinch, and you told yourself you’d tell him the next day. The next day turned into next week, then the next month. Before you knew it, you were in your third trimester and you were getting a call from his younger brother to inform you of his untimely death.

Maybe that’s really why you raced down here from Hibbing. Maybe that’s why you wanted to see for yourself that he was gone. Not only to confirm that the man who had your heart was gone for good, but also so you could tell him, hoping he might hear it wherever he now was. Or maybe by some act of mercy Jack could relay it to him, wherever Jack was. It was cowardly, you were a coward, and you hated yourself for it. You knew you should have told Dean months ago, after you found out that he and Sam had beaten Chuck, Jack was in charge of the universe now, and the world was not coming to an end anytime soon. Regardless, you couldn’t turn back the clock.

A tear escaped that you quickly wiped away, not caring if Sam saw or not. “You know, when you first told me about Dean, I considered a demon deal.”

Sam’s head snapped up. “No! That’s not what he would want! No!”

You held out a placating hand. “I know. I’m not going to do that.” He seemed to deflate slightly in relief. “I can’t, anyway.” You motioned to your bulging stomach. “I couldn’t do that to my kid. Only be around for 10 years and then poof, I’m gone? Even if it had Dean, if Dean wanted it that is, it’s still terrible to do that to a kid.” You winced slightly when you realized you were saying this to Sam Winchester of all people.

“Dean would’ve wanted it,” he assured you quietly.

You grimaced and dropped your gaze down to the dog who was staring up at you. “Maybe.” You reached down to pet his head. 

Sam placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “He would’ve.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, thinking over his words, when you murmured, “Is there any way to get him back?”

Sam let you go and his hazel eyes began to shimmer. “No,” he choked out. “I, uh, checked with Jack and he said it was his time. So…no.”

“What?” You snapped, getting to your feet. “After everything you’ve done for that kid? He just—”

Sam got to his feet, tenderly cradling your shoulders. “I know. I didn’t want to hear it either but…Jack’s right.” Your jaw dropped, ready to let some f-bombs fly (which you usually tried to avoid since the baby could now hear you), when Sam’s hands moved up to your face, trying to get you to listen. “He was ready to go. Jack confirmed it. Dean’s in Heaven and he’s at peace.”

Tears were on the edge of falling when you heard that. “He’s in Heaven?”

Sam nodded, a tear making its way down his cheek. “Yeah. He is.”

If Dean was in Heaven…well, then that was some consolation at least. Just when he thought he’d never make it there thanks to his being a demon for a short stint, being killed by a Hell Hound, and everything that had occurred over the years — even some of the things he’d done. But that also meant he was gone, for good this time. It was confirmed; he wasn’t coming back. It hit you like a freight train and it punched a huge hole in your chest. You felt as if you were falling, falling, and would never stop. Dean was…gone. “Then he’s…”

“He’s gone,” Sam confirmed. “He’s not coming back.”

Your knees buckled and you nearly fell, Sam thankfully having caught you. You heard a wailing sound but you had no idea where it was coming from until you felt it ripping its way out of your body. Sam gingerly picked you up in his arms and moved you onto the bed. You were violently sobbing and you barely noticed Sam holding you, gently rocking you back and forth, his own tears falling into your hair. Miracle had jumped up and laid next to you, whining quietly and trying to shove his head under your hands, rubbing his body carefully against your belly. 

There was no way. No way that this was real. This had to be a nightmare. But when you heard Sam sniffle above you, choking out, “It’s going to be okay, Y/N. I promise, it’s going to be okay,” you knew that it wasn’t. Memories of Dean’s face, his laugh, his smiles, his touch, his scent, the way he looked at you when you’d both been happy together, his kisses, the way he felt like home in a way that no other person or place ever could, the way he made you feel safe — all of it smashed over you like a tidal wave and it didn’t let up. Dean Winchester, the man you’d loved with all of your heart, the man whose child you now carried inside of you, was gone. And there was nothing you could do to bring him back.

Dean had just pulled the Impala over at a beautiful spot, where you could see nature’s beauty for miles. He rested back against Baby and marveled at it all. There was even a double rainbow that showed up and Dean chuckled, knowing that had to be Jack’s doing considering there hadn’t been any rain. Then he wondered if it did rain at all. How did things like that work up here anyhow?

He was still enjoying the view when Jack popped in next to him. 

“There he is.” Dean grinned and went to give him a hug before he thought better of it. “Am I still allowed to…you know?”

Jack smiled. “Of course. I like hugs.”

Dean laughed and embraced him tightly. “Thanks, kid. For everything you did up here, I mean. Bobby told me.” He pulled back, clapping his shoulder in thanks. “So, where’s Cas?”

“He’ll be along shortly but first, I need to show you something.”

Dean’s brows furrowed but he shrugged. “Okay.”

Jack placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder and next thing Dean knew, he was back in his old room at the Bunker. “Whoa,” he whispered, thinking Jack and Cas had built the Bunker just for him. He would be able to wait for Sam here, in his home. He hoped the TV in the Dean Cave worked and that he still had access to his music. Baby’s radio had worked so he had high hopes. He was about to thank Jack when his eyes suddenly caught sight of someone in his bed. Well, two someones. 

He glanced towards Jack who gave him a subtle nod, silently encouraging him to get closer. Dean shot him a confused look but did move closer. When he caught sight of you, his heart dropped into his stomach. Even being dead, he felt the same exact thing he felt the last time he had seen you. You were the one who got away, or more appropriately, the one he pushed away. 

Sure, he’d been confused when he found out everything in his life was a lie when Chuck revealed himself to be a giant dick, but he did love you. He had such trouble reconciling the two: what he knew to be true and what his mind was telling him. No other romantic relationship had worked out for him, all two of them prior to you, and now he knew why. Chuck liked him better on his own, being the guy with no strings attached and rolling through town to save the girl, kill the monsters, get thanked, and move on his way. The only other person Chuck liked having in the Impala regularly was Sam. You, well, you he hadn’t seen coming and after the Big Bad Chuck reveal, he had to wonder why. 

He had never meant to hurt you, though he couldn’t seem to stop from doing it. If things weren’t real between you all of this time, he didn’t want to keep pretending like they were. That wasn’t fair to either of you and he certainly didn’t want to continue stringing you along when his heart was no longer in it like it used to be. So he let you go, as painful as it was and as wrong as it felt, he did the right thing by you. Then that night he’d called you out of the blue, he’d been torn up about Cas’ revelations about Jack’s actual role in Billie’s plan, how badly he wanted Chuck gone, and how while he didn’t want to sacrifice the kid, he wanted his and Sam’s freedom more. Without thinking, he’d picked up the phone and dialed you. He shocked himself when he asked you to come over after hearing you weren’t that far away, and you shocked him even more when you agreed. 

Dean hadn’t planned for you two to be intimate, but once you were there, right in front of him, it hit him hard how much he missed you, missed what you had together. So he made a move and you let him. He’d put everything he had, everything he felt but couldn’t tell you, into this stolen moment in time between you. And then the next morning, he thought it had all been a dream until he turned his head and saw you laying there, hair adorably disheveled, sheet covering you, doing something on your phone. It briefly reminded him of the many mornings he’d woken to find you in this exact same position, already up after a wild night, searching for cases. He wanted to bask in the comfort and familiarity for a moment longer, but when you turned and smiled at him, greeting him like you always had, he started kicking himself internally. He didn’t want you to think that this meant things would change when he knew they wouldn’t. He was being unfair to you and it wasn’t right. He’d been a selfish bastard and now he had to go into dick mode which would hurt you again. And sure enough, he knew he did when he saw your face fall as he easily dismissed you, not once but twice. He winced at the memory; he certainly didn’t blame you for not taking his calls or returning his voicemails after that.

The truth was that while he had initially been confused about his feelings for you and their validity, he knew he cared deeply about you and the most important thing was keeping you safe. He didn’t want you involved in the Chuck showdown, which is why he rudely dismissed you that morning, making up an excuse of a case in Duluth, something he knew you’d go along with. After watching you leave, as the door closed behind you, his heart fell into his stomach and he felt about three inches tall. He hated hurting you, hated pushing you away, but he knew it was for the best. You needed to be safe; not a target for Chuck.

After Chuck had been defeated and Jack took over, Dean realized in those months that he’d been a grade A idiot when it came to you. Sure, he’d been a cold dick, but he also had been a complete dumbass. He still loved you and he missed the hell out of you. What you had together had been something special that he stupidly threw away. There were quite a few nights after quite a few drinks, he’d picked up his phone and hovered over your number but he never actually called it. How could he even think of asking you to forgive him and give him another chance? After everything he’d said and done? He truly was a selfish bastard. 

When he didn’t call, he then switched over to all of the photos and videos he had taken of you and both of you together. As he heard your laughter, saw both of your smiles, watched how you looked at him and the affection you’d shown him, he continued drowning his sorrows. He wanted so much to talk to you, to apologize and explain, and ask if he could come see you, but he never let himself ask. He didn’t deserve it; he knew that. 

Now, here you were, asleep on his bed, Miracle curled up next to you. Staring down at you, he wondered how the hell he had ever let you go. And now, he’d never get to hold you again, feel your touch, or even share a conversation with you ever again. Even though Dean was at peace with his fate, regret languished within his chest the more he studied your face. He reached out to brush some hair back over your face but sadness overwhelmed him when he realized he couldn’t even do that small simple touch. Not anymore.

Dean’s eyes narrowed when he noticed an arm curled around you, almost protectively, pinning you to another body. His gaze traveled up that arm to find his younger brother, asleep right behind you. That surprised him but he quickly put two and two together. You must have gone to the Bunker when Sam called you to tell you the news and here you were, in Dean’s room, asleep on his bed with his dog. And while he didn’t begrudge you or his little brother some comfort you both might need, he didn’t like the look of that embrace or that Sam’s face was buried into the back of your neck.

Dean glanced back down at the arm, seeing Miracle staring right up at him. He couldn’t help but smile at the canine who had been his companion for months before he died. “Hey, boy,” he whispered, not sure if he would be heard or not but not wanting to startle you if he was. “How are you?”

Miracle didn’t seem to react at first, not until he got up and moved closer, wagging his tail. Dean went to try to pet the dog, hoping he could at least touch the animal, but he never got that far. His eyes zeroed in on just what Miracle’s body had been blocking.

His wide eyes flicked up to you, to Sam, back to you, and back to your fairly large and round stomach. The hell with being heard and possibly scaring you two. He glanced back to find Jack watching him. “What the hell is going on here, Jack?”

“They’re sleeping.”

“I’m aware of that,” he growled. “But what—”

Just then, Cas popped in next to Jack. When the angel saw Dean, he offered a soft smile. Dean felt himself relax slightly and a part of him wanted to go hug the angel but another part of him was nervous to. Plus, he really wanted to know what the hell was going on. He shifted his eyes towards Jack, his jaw tightening. “What the hell are you showing me?”

Cas glanced towards the bed, realization lighting his features, before he turned to Jack as well.

“The present,” Jack simply answered.

Dean cursed under his breath, not caring that both Cas and Jack could hear him. “The present of what? Because from where I’m standing, it seems like some time has passed.” He gestured towards your stomach. He tried not to be angry with you or Sammy, he really did, but dammit, his brother knew how he felt about you! Him dying didn’t change that! Besides, Sam had something going with Eileen last he knew, whatever happened to that?

“What you’re seeing is a few days after your death.”

Surprise ran through Dean at that revelation. So, this wasn’t some screwed up future scene he was witnessing? His eyes roamed over you, coming to rest once again on your stomach. You were very pregnant, looking as if you might be ready to pop any day now, he wasn’t sure. But one thing was clear; there was no way the baby was Sam’s. Sam wouldn’t have been able to keep that secret from him that long and he just didn’t see you or Sam going behind his back like that while he was alive. You were pissed at him, maybe even hated him, but you would never do that to him. Nor would Sam. The only answer was that you had found someone else and you were starting a family with them. Now he understood your radio silence even more. You might currently be sad at the news of his death, awash in memories in his room to where you’d fallen asleep on his bed and Sam had to comfort you, but you had truly moved on. That burned him even more. While he was happy if you were happy, knowing you’d found someone who wouldn’t break your heart and would treat you better than he ever could, a part of him was saddened by this knowledge. He knew you were too good for him, that you deserved better, but to see it confirmed in such a way, well, it was heartbreaking.

“So if she���s… Then she’s…” He couldn’t even put it into words; it hurt too much.

Jack clasped Dean’s shoulder. “The child is yours, Dean.”

Dean wasn’t alive anymore but if he had been, his heart would have stopped. He turned to Jack, shocked. “What?”

“You’re going to be a father,” Jack supplied, letting him go.

“But…how?” Dean’s gaze fell on you once more.

Cas suddenly appeared on his other side. “You don’t remember how you conceived the child?”

“What? No, I just…”

“Dean,” Jack called. 

When he turned to look at the new God, the latter held up a glowing finger to him that almost reminded him of that movie E.T. “What are you gonna do with that? Check my temperature?” Speaking of E.T., hadn’t that been one of the last movies picked for movie night before the Chuck showdown?

Jack smiled and touched the finger to his forehead. Within seconds, Dean was reliving every single moment between you two:

…When you’d met. 

…When he decided he’d liked you while you decided you didn’t like him too much.

…His constant flirting and trying to win you over.

…Your begrudging friendship that then grew into something more.

…Your relationship.

…Your breakup.

…All of the times you’d been in pain because of him.

…That last night.

…The next morning. 

Then the memories shifted to yours from after that morning: 

…You finding out about the pregnancy a couple of months later.

…Your hemming and hawing over calling him to tell him.

…Your fears.

…When you’d vanished with everyone else.

…Your panic upon your reappearance.

…The time you spent getting ready to retire from hunting and set up a normal life in Hibbing while preparing for the baby.

…The call from Sam with the news of his death.

…Your regret at not telling him about his child and your drive down here.

…Your conversation with Sam.

…Your collapsing in grief at finally realizing that he was gone and not coming back.

All of it that led to the scene he was witnessing now. He felt everything you felt, heard every thought, saw every tear, every smile. 

By the time Jack pulled away, Dean’s eyes were wet. He wasn’t sure how he was able to produce tears as a dead man but he did. Not only did he feel how deeply he’d hurt you, but he also felt just how deeply you loved him. He already knew he’d been an idiot when it came to you, but he really had no clue before this just how incredibly stupid he’d been. It had always been real between you. That hadn’t been Chuck. Not by a long shot.

Dean discreetly wiped his eyes. “Send me back.” His tone was firm and he wasn’t really asking.

“I’m sorry, Dean, but your time on Earth is up.”

Dean turned a menacing glare onto Jack. New God or not, he didn’t care. “She’s having my kid and she needs me. They both need me. Sam, too. After everything I’ve done for this world, you owe me.” Jack stared him down, unbothered by the taller man’s attempt to make demands. “Now I appreciate the Fixer Upper: Heaven Edition, I really do, but I should be with them. I deserve a shot at this and you know it.”

Jack mused on that for a moment before staring up at Dean sadly. “I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that.”

Dean scoffed. “Then why bother showing me any of this? Why bother telling me that it’s my kid she’s about to have? What’s the point, dammit?”

“You were afraid that you had left nothing behind of value, except Sam and your beloved car. Afraid that your life hadn’t amounted to anything in the end. No matter how many people you saved, no matter how many connections you made, no matter what good you did. ” Jack gestured towards you. “It did amount to something. You are leaving behind something, something important. A legacy,” Jack gestured to your stomach. “A family,” he waved his hand over you and Sam. 

Dean’s jaw clenched and he ignored the stinging in the corner of his eyes. “So this was just to show me what I can never have. The girl, the kid, the life…that’s just aces,” he muttered.

“No, Dean,” Cas spoke up. “What Jack is trying to explain is—”

“--your life amounted to more than you thought it had,” Jack finished.

Dean watched as Miracle went back and curled up against your belly once more, his head on his paws as he watched the scene in front of him. The corner of Dean’s lips tipped up into a smile. It was almost as if the dog knew it was his kid in there. And he was determined to protect it in Dean’s absence. His smile faded though when he thought of how he wouldn’t be able to see his kid, at all. He’d had enough of this. “That’s great. Appreciate the pep talk, fellas. Now, if you could send me back so I can actually raise my legacy and take care of my family, that’d be much appreciated.”

Jack and Cas exchanged a glance. Dean knew he wasn’t winning this one but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t keep trying. “It’s not your time yet,” Jack answered cryptically.

Dean’s head snapped in his direction. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means that now your time is in Heaven, not Earth. And it’s best if you return to it.” Before Jack could snap his fingers, Dean held up a hand.

“Whoa, wait! That’s it? You’re not even gonna let me stick around to see what I’m gonna have?”

Jack smiled once more. “You’re going to have a son. A strong, healthy son.”

Dean reeled from that information. “A son?” He choked out.

Jack gave him a happy nod and held his fingers up again.

“Wait, wait! I’m serious, Jack. Why can’t I stick around?”

“You know what happens to ghosts, Dean. Besides, you’ve already been admitted to Heaven.”

“But you can do something about that, right? Like bring me back?” When Jack didn’t respond, Dean became desperate. “At least let me check in on them every now and then or something! You’re telling me you can’t even do that? You’re freaking God!”

Jack’s smile faded. “You’re not an angel, Dean.”

“No,” Cas interrupted. “But I am.” Cas stretched out his wings that were a lot brighter than Dean remembered. If he wasn’t dead, he was pretty sure he would at they very least be blinded from the brightness right about now. “I can take him back when he’s ready and I can escort him on any future visits.”

Dean was shocked but also beyond grateful at Cas’ offer. While they hadn’t spoken yet about how things were left between them before The Empty took away the angel, he couldn’t imagine it would be easy for Cas to watch as he pined over someone else, as he watched his kid grow, but Dean was grateful all the same. 

Jack appeared to think this over before meeting Cas’ intent gaze. “You will make sure to bring him back each time.” At Cas’ nod, Jack gave him a knowing yet affectionate smile. “I expect you to keep to the rules during these visits.”

“Of course,” Cas agreed.

Jack then glanced over at Dean. “If you’re worried about her and your child, you don’t need to be. Sam is going to watch over them.” Dean’s eyes widened slightly and his head snapped in your direction, his eyes shifting to Sam’s arm around you.

“What the hell does that mean?” He demanded.

“It means that your family is going to be safe. They’re going to stick together. Sam is going to help Y/N raise your son. He won’t allow any harm to come to them.” 

His jaw tightened, thinking it should be his arm over you, him behind you, him helping you raise your kid, you two together. He should be the one to take his son fishing, teach him about girls when he got older, show him how to keep Baby going, be the father his old man had the potential to be but minus a few things. He’d do whatever it took to keep the kid out of hunting, to give him a shot at a full happy life. He’d give up hunting himself in order to make it happen. And you…if you’d take him back, he’d never leave your side. Hell, he’d marry you if you let him. After Jack had caught him up to speed on everything you went through, everything you had felt and were feeling, he’d spend the rest of his life making it up to you, letting you know every single day just how much he loved you, if only you’d let him. If only Jack would allow him to come back. It felt beyond wrong that he wasn’t there and Sam was stepping into his place. Sam shouldn’t have to; he should be able to go and build his own family with Eileen or whoever, get married, have a couple of kids, buy a house, get out of hunting and go back to school — do whatever he wanted with his life. Not this.

“Dean.”

His eyes slowly lifted to Jack’s, who was a lot closer now than he had been before. He laid a reassuring hand on the man’s shoulder. “It’s as it should be. After you died, Sam was lost. She’s going to need help when the child is born.” He stared at Dean meaningfully. “They all need this.”

Dean’s gaze briefly roamed over the three of you on the bed before landing on Jack again. He thought back to his cryptic words from before. “Will I ever meet my kid? Get to see her again? Outside of Heaven?”

Jack’s expression didn’t change nor did he say anything but he squeezed his shoulder. That was the only response Dean was going to get apparently. 

Dean huffed a snort and shook his head.

“I told you, Dean. There would be no more meddling with the world from on high. I will not repeat Chuck’s mistakes. Everything is as it should be.”

Dean’s jaw clenched and he dropped his gaze. No, everything wasn’t as it should be. He made up his mind then to talk to Bobby when he got back. There had to be something he could do to get back to Earth, to get back to you and Sam and the baby…to get back to you all. If he couldn’t convince Jack to send him back, he’d find some other way.

Jack released him as Cas came to stand next to Dean. “I’ll see you back in Heaven.” He then looked at Cas. “Not too long.”

Cas gave him a nod and like that, Jack disappeared, leaving the angel and the hunter alone. Dean wasn’t thinking about how that might have set them up to talk about Cas’ last words to him before dying; right now, his focus was on you.

“Cas, please…can I touch her?”

“Dean…”

“Please,” he begged. “Just one last time. I’m not gonna get to be with her or raise my kid. I just want to touch her one last time. Please, Cas.”

Cas thought it over and then moved closer to the bed, leaning down to place two fingers against your forehead. Dean’s brows furrowed when he noticed a golden glow appear from the touch. “Whoa, whoa, Cas. What are you doing?”

“I’m giving you what you asked for. Y/N’s a light sleeper, like all of you hunters. If she wakes up, she could think she’s being attacked by a ghost or some other entity. I doubt you want that.” He pulled away and gave Dean a look.

“No,” Dean quietly agreed. Cas moved away to make room to let him in. Dean gingerly sat on the bed, about to touch you when he glanced up at the angel, unsure. Cas gave him a nod and Dean turned to gently run the backs of his fingers down your cheek. He felt your warm and soft skin this time when he came into contact with you and he let out a small breath of relief, sadness filling his chest. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. Had I known, I would’ve…” He supposed it didn’t really matter what he would’ve done. “I should’ve been there. You shouldn’t have had to go through all this alone. I should be there with you now, ready to help you take care of the kid. I…” He tenderly moved your hair behind your ear. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I never wanted to hurt you, but I had to keep you safe. I didn’t want you to become a target for Chuck. And I never should’ve…” He could feel a familiar stinging at the corners of his eyes and he wasn’t surprised that his voice was a bit gruffer when he next spoke. “I knew what we had was real. I know I questioned it for a second there but I always knew. That’s why it was so important to me that you were safe. But it doesn’t make what I did and said okay. And I’m sorry for that.” He ran his fingers lightly over your lips, wishing he could kiss you one last time, feeling you kissing him back. “I love you,” he whispered, a single tear falling down his cheek that he hastily wiped away. He stroked the apple of your cheek tenderly with his thumb. “And I always will.”

Not really wanting to pull away from you but knowing he was on a time clock, he reluctantly moved his fingers away from your face and laid his hand on your belly. He couldn’t feel anything except the taut skin underneath his fingertips, but it was enough to make him smile. “Being that you’re my kid, you’re probably going to give your mom a run for her money. Try not to make her too crazy, huh?” He let out a watery sounding laugh. “I’m sorry I can’t be there but your Uncle Sammy is going to make sure you and your mom are taken care of. Okay? He’s going to show you how to toss a ball around, help you with your homework, all that stuff. Just do me a favor, though. Don’t let him feed you kale the whole time and don’t let him get you into his true crime podcasts. The guy is a classic nerd, don’t let him turn you into one, too.” His smile slowly faded. “Saying all that, he’s one of the best guys I've ever known and I know he’ll be good to you, be good to your mom. So cut him some slack when you get older, alright?” He rubbed his thumb in gentle circles. “Take care of your mom for me. I’ll be watching over both of you. I hope I get to meet you someday.” Unable to resist, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your stomach before sitting up and coming face to face with Miracle. The dog quietly whined and Dean gave him one last good head scratch. “You look out for them, okay buddy?” The dog whined again and Dean patted him.

“Dean,” Cas gently called.

Dean nodded and slowly got to his feet. His eyes shifted to Sam who was sound asleep, giving him a soft smile. “Thanks for taking care of them, Sammy,” he whispered. He didn’t vocalize that it was only temporary, that he was hell bent and determined to find a way to get back. His eyes then landed on you and he reached out to you one last time, trailing a fingertip along the dried tear tracks on your cheek. “Cas, can we just stay until they wake up?”

“Dean, Jack said—”

“I know what Jack said,” Dean snapped, glancing back at the angel whose parted lips pressed into a thin line. Dean immediately felt sorry for snapping at him; it wasn’t Cas’ fault and he wasn’t angry with him. He softened his tone. “I just want to be here when she wakes up. That’s all.” Cas seemed to be wrestling with his request. “Please, Cas,” he begged. “I just want to see her like this, awake.” He was slightly embarrassed at admitting that to his best friend but he wasn’t sure when he’d be allowed to visit again (and what he might be able to figure out to get himself back or how long it would take), and he had the strongest urge to see you up and about, walking around, pregnant with his kid. Not to mention he wanted to hear your voice one last time. “Please,” he whispered in a broken plea.

Cas stared at him for a moment before giving him a nod. “But after she wakes, we go back.”

“Thank you, Cas.” He meant it. While he highly doubted Cas would get into any real trouble on his behalf, he knew how difficult it must be for the angel to unwillingly push against Jack’s rules.  Dean turned back to you, carefully sitting down next to you, caressing your face. “Sleep, sweetheart. I’ll keep you safe,” he murmured. He also made you a silent promise: he would do whatever it took to get back to you. His eyes briefly roamed to your stomach. To get back to both of you. Fate and the universe and all that crap be damned.

[syrma-sensei]

→ Hush Hush Behind The Shield.

gif credit.

pairing: soldier boy/ben x wife!reader.

rating: explicit.

warnings: vought's ungodly shenanigans, mentions of cheating, couple fighting, angst, misogyny, antiquated mentality, dub-con, power imbalance, fingering, forced orgasms, angry sex, cock riding...

word count: 3.4k

summary: being america's greatest hero's wife has its perks, but they don't come for free...

taglist: @zepskies, @deansbbyx, @kaleldobrev, @k-slla, @deanbrainrotwritings, @deans-spinster-witch, @venus-haze, @thebiggerbear...

A/N: I'd like to thank my two pretty moots, @kaleldobrev who's been always there for me, listening to mental blurbs and chaotic spews of unhinged ideas and continuous mind dump ❤️ and @zepskies who bares my energy, which can be a bit much, each time I spam her dms with life cringing memes and awaful reacts ❤️

Kneeling down on one knee, your mitted hands hoisted the oven door close as you hummed a melody to yourself. Turning on your heels, you stood up and gave the dining table a once-over before allowing a proud grin slip on your lips.

“Perfect.”

Then your eyes glanced at your watch. It was half an hour past seven in the evening. Perfect. There'd be enough time to pamper yourself in a relaxing shower and spruce up with no rush before your husband was home.

You gave the dining room another glimpse to make sure everything was in place before you headed to the bathroom upstairs, walking through the living room where the T.V. displayed a Soldier Boy anti-drugs commercial.

A snore escaped your nose upon hearing the phrase: “Just say no.” Remembering how your husband threw a fit behind the scenes at how stupid it was, to the point of getting Stan Edgar himself on the line for him to find an alternative to it. Because no way he was saying that shit.

“God, I sounded like a fucking douchebag,” He'd told you in his dressing room, a smouldering reefer hanging between his lips — the irony, after they wrapped filming up.

You'd giggled, playfully plucking it from his lips to take a drag of your own, “No, baby, you did just fine.” You purred, and his mouth curled up into a small grin, “The public needs that y'know…” You tipped his chin up, your polished, long nails grazed lightly to his skin, “You're America's golden son, right? You're the man everyone should look up to.”

“Damn sure they should.” He'd chuckled, leaning down for a kiss which you gladly welcomed.

Being Soldier Boy's wife came with many many perks, but it also had its downsides, one of which was to have to deal with his short temper. But what could you say? You loved the man. Ardently so; you literally fought the world to have him all for yourself despite Vought's disapproval of your nuptial.

You savoured the victory when you married Ben in a small ceremony without Vought's blessing. It was like a slap to them when Ben imparted upon them the happy news, he delivered them a severe black eye, especially the vainglorious bastard Edgar. Who had once told you that you and Ben wouldn't work out, for it was simply "inconvenient" for a superhero like Soldier Boy to be involved in a serious relationship with a mere… human; it'd be a "disappointment" in the public eye, as he put it. Like he had a say in the matter.

But here you were, with a ring on your left hand to swagger about, and happily married to America's first hero, Edgar and Vought could say hello to your middle finger.

To nobody's surprise, you resented Vought, and held such abhorrence against them for not letting you and your husband live the life you wanted for yourselves. Despite your personal efforts, your proclaimed triumph was soon cut short because Vought declined to go public and endorse your marriage. Not that you and your husband gave two shits about their approval, but the rules were rules. And their lawyers affirmed that a public exposure of your marriage might damage Soldier Boy's rep, therefore, Vought's; given the fact that you were more than thirty years younger than him. They couldn't have it said that the hero of heroes was a creep even though they'd tried to conceal his age when he and Phoebe Cates starred in Love And War because it started to seem fishy. It was expected, though. But what you didn't see coming was Ben's response, or lack of response as to put it.

Despite being even more obdurate about this marriage than yourself. You felt terribly abjured by your husband. You'd thought he'd fight for you, for what you both had, and he'd want to let the world know about you. It'd broken your heart when it dawned upon you that Ben wouldn't risk his fame and glory for anyone, for you. Reluctantly, you bit the bullet, you had to, for him, because you loved him, and would do anything to keep this marriage intact. If you had to compromise for it, then so be it. You didn't care.

To your solace, Ben never changed after the frustrating incident; he was still the man you fell in love with. He might be smug, crass, and insufferable to everyone but you could still perceive the tender side he had though he'd never actually admit it, and you never pushed him too much. You were subtle enough to know when to stroke his ego and when to tease it. He was a man, after all. But it was obvious; he was a doting husband who cherished you in his own way. He showered you with gifts, and pampered you when he could. And he was eager to have babies with you. He never ceased to express how rapturous he would be if he were to have a son. A child with you.

Sure, you had your own qualms about that particular day, and there was more than a time you wanted to have a conversation with him about it. But you couldn't bring yourself to screw it up with stupid doubts. If Ben hadn't truly loved you, he wouldn't have treated you the way he did, he wouldn't have brought you to his workplace to have you at his side — and to poke Vought's eye every single time. He wouldn't have let you in and told you about his family and his dad, about his fucked-up childhood and how he became a hero.

No, your bond was bigger than any fleeting thoughts of incredulity.

You crooned softly as you wrapped a towel around your body after you finished your shower. Stepping out, you rubbed your hair with another towel and made your way down towards the kitchen to check on the pie.

Oh, Ben liked pies. You found it amusing how he'd swallow a whole pie alone and wouldn't affect him one bit; a supe sure required a lot of calories. Sometimes, you wished you had his great metabolism.

The moreish scent of baked dough and chocolate told you it was ready. You opened the oven door with a protected hand and placed the delicious pie by the window to let it cool down while you dressed up.

On your way back to your bedroom, you padded through the living room again. Your eyes glanced fleetingly at the screen only to stop abruptly in your tracks. A slight frown made it to your face as you saw a picture of Ben and Crimson Countess together. You never liked Countess. Something about her always disturbed you, and your guts were right.

Your eyes roamed the headline over and over, dilating in stupor.

Breaking News: Soldier Boy and Crimson Countess are officially together, Vought announced.

You shook your head in disbelief, hand grasping the remote control from the couch, shivering fingers shuffling through the channels.

Soldier Boy finally found the one!

Your heart paced up with each press.

A long awaited power couple is now here!

Vought just shocked the world by—

And here's Soldier Boy and Countess's statement…

It was hard to quell your simmering anger when you saw your husband smiling face with that bitch between his arms. Camera flashes and clicks swarmed around them with an entourage of reporters and interviewers.

“Hey, Soldier Boy, now you're together, what can you tell us about the first time you saw Countess? Was it love at first?” A reporter asked.

Ben scratched his beard with his gloved hand, drawling “First time I met Tess was when Vought concocted a hero collab years ago, remember that honey?”

You did remember that event very clearly. You were still Ben's secret girlfriend at the time, and it was exclusive to superheroes, yet Ben brought you there as his date.

Ben grinned as if dreamily reminiscing about the memory as he continued, “And lemme tell ya one thing, this one is a firecracker.”

Countess giggled playfully, gazing up at your husband in the most flirtatious way, it made you gag with disgust.

You scoffed bitterly at the blatant lies spurting right in your face. That specific night, Ben had childishly grumbled and complained about how much he wanted to be out of there. And to spice things up, he playfully dragged you from the pristine hall the event took place in, and fucked you raw against one of the wall of some other hall, keeping your panties as a souvenir for the rest of the soirée. He kept teasing you through the entire night, riling and messing you up. At the time, it was thrilling and venturous. Now, however, it knotted at the tip of your stomach. His focus that day was solely on you. He wasn't even aware of the bitch's presence for all you care.

“And when I first saw her… knew she was the one….”

You couldn't comprehend what Ben said after that point as a deafening buzz bolted through your ears. Tears rolled down your cheeks, and soon they were streaming from your eyes as you stood numb on your spot. Your tears splattered on the ground along with your heart.

“Honey, I'm home.” Ben announced once he stepped in the house. He sighed, putting his shield down and making his way to the kitchen where you usually would be, making his dinner. He didn't take his boots off though he knew you'd throw a fit about it, but let's just say that teasing and screwing with you was his favourite hobby. His anticipating grin soon dropped and a small scowl knitted his brows when an odd mixture of scents wafted into his nose. His eyes dilated at the unusual messy scene in the kitchen; the table was flipped over, glass splints scattered all over the floor, freshly-cooked food covering the carpet beneath the dining table, and a chocolate pie was squashed into the wall.

With a pacing heart, Ben cried your name, and hurriedly climbed up the stairs. His feet darted to the bedroom when he heard you sniffling and weeping.

An audible sigh of relief flouted out of chest when he saw you. Your hair was wet and a damp towel wrapped around your body, but his eyebrow quirked up when he noticed you packing a bag on the bed. The fuck?

“(Y/N), the fuck is going here?” You scared the shit outta me. He wanted to say, after the shitty day he had, he just wanted to have you in his arms and play with your hair.

You startled for a moment when you heard his southern accent. You used to be fond of it, but today you were certainly not.

“I'm leaving.” Your answer came out curt, your hands tugging your bag zippers close.

You heard his footsteps getting closer until you felt his hand on your bare shoulder, “What happened to you, sweetheart?”

You pulled yourself away from his hold, hissing, “Don't you fucking touch me!”

He didn't seem to heed your warning as he reached a hand to your face. Gritting your teeth, you spun around with your hand ready to deliver a slap to his cheek. However, and no matter how fast and pissed you were, he was always quicker and alerter. Fucking supe.

“You don't get to touch me ever again you asshole!” You shrieked, yanking your wrist from his grasp, your wet hair stuck to your face, chest heaving with each breath. 

“The fuck is wrong with you, woman?!” He growled with a deep scowl, “Just left you all happy and giggling in the morning, is it here? Your time of the month again?”

“Fuck you!” You spat, clenched hands rising up to his chest, “You're my fucking problem,” You jabbed a fist to chest, though he didn't move an inch, but damn didn't it feel good! You blew another punch to his stupidly firm chest again and again.

“Fucking Christ!” He grumbled, and with one strong arm, Ben wrangled your back against his chest and caged you in his steel hold, one hand securing both of your wrists above your head, “Calm the fuck down!”

Legs kicking and hands tugging, you tried to wriggle out of his arms but to no avail, you felt so helpless against his raw strength. Your anger and frustration poured out of your mouth in a wailing, broken voice, “Leave. Me. Alone!” You bellowed, “Go to your fucking Crimson Bitch!” Two rivulets of tears drizzled from your eyes again, “Go to your fucking Tess and let her fire-crack your nuts, you fucking pussy!”

“Christ on a cross, do you hear yourself talk, woman?!”

His eyes widened before his eyebrows scrunched deeply. He took you off guard when he brought you down to the floor as he crouched on one knee. Your towel unwrapped at the sudden movement and you were naked beneath his eyes. His hands were still holding you in place.

Two green eyes regarded you softly, “You really took that marketing shit for real?” He thumbed your lower lip, and his free hand trailed down your naked form. “Fucking hell, thought you were way smarter than that, sweetheart.” You shivered from both the cold and his touch, his sinful reaching your mound, “You really think I'd fucking leave you for her?”

You couldn't suppress the moan when he stroked your throbbing clit. A shot of arousal seeped out of your opening much to Ben's satisfaction. Anger made the colour of your face rise, “Fuck you! Fuck your bitch! Fuck Vought!” You spat, your eyes burning holes into his as he proceeded toying with your flesh until your voice broke, “Y-You want me to buy your shit — Ah!” Two of his thick and expert digits entered your slit, massaging your love spots thoroughly. “After you didn't stand up for our marriage?!” You groaned, hips rolling to the rhythm of his fingers.

“Is that so?” His brow quirked up amusedly. Was this funny to this bastard? Was your marriage some kind of a joke to him?

You gasped as he deliberately hit your weak spot; sweet, delightful coils fluttered at the tip of your stomach, “I was under the fucking impression that you had your pretty, little head wrapped around how this fucking business worked!” He snarled.

“Fuck you! I hate you!” Your body snapped as you came abundantly on his fingers which made him grin slyly down at you.

You felt his grip on your wrists loosen, so you took your window and jerked yourself free. He was shocked when you pushed him down on the floor and straddled his hips, your dripping cunt was drenching his pants with your cum. He raised a playful brow at you but soon was replaced by a shocked frown when you slapped his irritatingly handsome face.

“Fucking hell, you fucking little ballbuster—”

You shushed him with a finger on his lips, “You're fucking mine, Benjamin, you hear me! You're fucking mine!” You hissed, having no idea where your vigour came from as you tore his shirt off of his chest. His length poked you when you gazed with searing fire in your eyes at his, “You. Belong. To. Me.” You furiously tucked his pants and boxers down, his cock springing out with life.

A wanton moan came off your lips as you sunk yourself down his cock, whereas he grumbled in pleasure as you hugged him tightly with your wet and warm insides.

You snapped your hips harshly and he growled, “Fuck, doll—!”

Another snap, your voice was laboured, “I own you. You're married not to that whore, not to Vought, but to me!”

Your skin slammed against his meat vehemently as you gritted your teeth when another orgasm was spiralling in your body. You paced up your movement, a hand banging demandingly on his chest, “Say it! You're fucking mine!”

“Holy shit!” You watched his eyes roll backwards as he rasped, “Yours, babe,”

“Holy fuck, Ben! Ben, I'm coming again!”

That was his cue to take control again. He sat up, cradling you in his warm hold, “Cum to me, babe, fucking soak my cock.” You wabled his name, clinging to his shoulders as your climax stormed out of your body like a mad hurricane. You whimpered pathetically when his two large hands on your hips kept making you ride him through your high.

“Fucking stupid girl,” He growled, shooting his seed up your insides.

With laboured breaths, you glared at each other. You felt his cock softening inside of you, “Fucking idiot man.” You scoffed.

He chuckled with a boyish grin on his sweaty face, “That was fucking hot, think I like this wild side of you, darlin'”

You snickered, “You bet, wait until you see what I'm gonna do with that little fuck, Edgar.”

Ben rumbled a deep chortle, much to your annoyance, would this man ever take you seriously? “I swear to fucking Christ, Ben, if they—you don't break off that stupid shit with Countess and go public about us, I'll fucking burn that fucking tower to the fucking ground, because I'm fucking done with this—mhmmm!”

He cut you off with a scorching kiss and its heat made you thaw against his lips. His cock twitched inside of you.

“Jealousy looks pretty on you though, sweetheart” He teased, his lips brushing to yours.

God, damn this man and his endless ego! “Ben!” You nudged him playfully.

“Can't wait to see you wanting to snatch some ladies' heads off when we go to balls together.”

You smiled at him, biting on your bottom lip. The idea of finally being acknowledged as Ben's wife warmed your heart, and his willingness to do so made your heart race. However, disturbing thoughts loomed in your head again, “Think Vought will let us be?” You asked with hesitation. Fuck, that shit really got too deep into you.

He rolled his eyes, “Try not to work your pretty head hard 'bout this, doll,” He tucked a tress of your hair behind your ear, “The man who fucking beat the Nazis can handle some sweaty fucknuts at Vought.” There was something warmly reassuring about his smugness.

“See? All that shit wouldn't happen if you didn't stay silent while they fucking tried to play their fucking game!”

Ben chuckled, “Well, the fucking was totally worth it.”

You groaned in frustration, “Ben… I thought you abandoned me.”

Your husband furrowed his brows at you, “You women hardly think sometimes, don't you?” You scowled at his remark but he sighed, cradling your cheeks in his warm hands, “I fucking fought to make you my wife. I fucking put my whole career and name at risk for you.” You blinked at him, “The day before we tied our knot, I fucking told the boardroom that I was marrying you, that I'd fucking walk off if they tried anything funny… they didn't, till fucking today.” He sighed, “They fucking announced that bullshit before I was even told.”

“Assholes,” You whispered.

“After that pathetic act, I fucking stormed to Edgar like I stormed Normandy. Let's say that he and I did a little bit of chatting,” He gave you a conceited smirk, giving you no detail of how he got scared shitless when he saw the mess in the kitchen. He thought Vought dared to fucking do something to you. And when he heard you cry he feared the worst. But of course, he wouldn't tell you anything about that. Because he was the fucking man of this house; if his feelings of fear appeared, the sense of security he provided to this house, to you, would crumble. And he wouldn't have that. Ever.

You, on the other hand, had a weird combination of pride and happiness sprouted within your chest.

“I'm so sorry, Ben…” You said, cupping his face in your hands, “I-I don't know what came over me when I saw you with her,” You couldn't even say her name.

“Couldn't have your man stolen away, could you?” He teased you.

“Never.” You answered, “And I'm sorry for what happened, husband.”

“I mean you did make it up for me, wife,” He flashed you a cheeky grin, “Though, I don't feel particularly in a forgiving mood… yet.”

Head tilting to the side, your raised an eyebrow, rolling your hips teasingly on his cock, “Don't push your luck…”

“Try me.”

[winchestergirl2]

February Reading Recs

To show some love and appreciation to all the amazing writers here on tumblr, here are all the fantastic fics I've read this month. 💖

Many of these fics and blogs are 18+ only, and NSFW please heed the author's individual fic warnings and requests regarding no minors. I am not responsible for your media consumption.

2023 Reading Recs | 2024 Reading Recs

Walker

Cordell Walker

Quieting the Demons Inside @idreamofplaid

Authors Summary: Cordell opens up to the reader, and his vulnerability takes their relationship to the next level.

Privacy @idreamofplaid

Authors Summary: Cordell is a passionate man, but he’s a dad too. It doesn’t mean he has to choose between the two.

Texas Nights @stefanmikaleson1864

Dawsons Creek

CJ Braxton

Something Like This @thebiggerbear

Authors Summary: A Nor'easter hits Boston and luckily for you, you don't have anywhere you need to be except right here snuggled up with CJ.

My Bloody Valentine

Tom Hanniger

Lonely Dancers @mind-empty-just-fictional-people

Authors summary: when your boyfriend cheats on you, it leads you to tom hanniger

10 Inch Hero

Boaz Priestly

Code Red @zepskies

Authors Summary: When you call him for help, Priestly realizes that he finally has the relationship of his dreams.

High School Never Ends Part 1 | Part 2 | @illshakeyouallnightlong-dean

Supernatural

Dean Winchester

Hollow @thoughtslikeaminefield

Authors Summary: @winchesterxfamilybusiness​ submitted this prompt to @cabin-fever-bang​ “Would anyone be willing to write something with Dean [or Jensen] x reader to the song Love on the Brain by Rihanna -xx”

Fire & Rain Masterlist @writercole

Authors Summary: When a fire destroys her place to live, Y/N and her daughter Lana are left with nowhere to go and no one to count on, except the kindness of a beautiful, green-eyed firefighter that saved their lives. Will the pair of them make it through the obstacles life has dealt them or will they crash and burn?

Just Another Day @1000roughdrafts

Authors Summary: Fluffy Dean x female!reader Valentine's Day post

Don't Forget It @hintsofhoney

Authors Summary: While working a case with Dean, he gets jealous of the way you interact with a suspect and decides to remind you who you belong to.

Sam Winchester

You're On Your Own Kid Part 1 @my-proof-is-you

Authors Summary: You’re used to being on your own. You’d been on your own as long as you could remember. Could Sam show you that it isn’t the only way to live?

Untitled Sam Winchester Fic @supernaturalfreewill

Big Sky

Beau Arlen

Febuwhump Day 10 @luci-in-trenchcoats

Febuwhump Day 14 @luci-in-trenchcoats

Febuwhump Day 21 @luci-in-trenchcoats

Whole Lotta Love @deanbrainrotwritings

Authors Summary: beau finds a way repays the reader after taking care of him when he’s injured, but also to apologise for worrying her. but most importantly, to prove he was okay.

The Way We Fall In Love @smellingofpoetry

Authors Summary: This is the story of how they fall in love.

The Boys

Soldier Boy

Febuwhump Day 12 @luci-in-trenchcoats

Side Effects of Soldier Boy @tom-whore-dleston

Authors Summary: Soldier Boy tries to keep you quiet during sex.

Smallville

Jason Teague

Febuwhump Day 7 @luci-in-trenchcoats

[masterthespianduchovny]

The 'Pitch Please' Podcast is Up

In case you're wondering why I tagged you, it was because some of engaged on posts or created posts about the TV show 'Pitch' "recently" and I thought you might be interested in the podcast. Since the fandom is incredibly small, information doesn't travel like it used to and I decided to be proactive.

There was also a post where I suggested the show to those who like Ted Lasso or The Bear. If you haven't seen the show, but are curious about it and the podcast, you should have a listen. :)

It's a discussion pod about the show, so there are spoilers. But it also will eventually discuss ways we can try to campaign to get the show to come back.

@mdgart @sarascofield27 @lizacstuff @black-women-ships @forevercountingstars @gimmedeanandbourbonontherocks @olicity-bawson-hinny @what-do-1000-swords-look-like @straightoutoffuckstogive@harvestleaves @@thebiggerbear @indynerdgirl @littlewillowcabins @classsictrash @easyobsession@sarcasticfina @pedro-pascal @heywhatsthatblog @macaroni-rascal @texasbama @hightidelowmood @theloverlylo @megaphonemonday @bugheadchemistry @chaoswillcalmusdown

There are three episodes up so far and the fourth one will be released this Thursday.

Hope you all enjoy!

[lafgl]

on today's edition of fuck around and find out: ai art!

here we have the case of a user spamming fandom tags with ai-generated content. when told they should include a mention of AI art in their post so it's more clearly visible, stellar tumblr user thebiggerbear decided that was a good idea!

they quickly decided this was not actually fun and being pedantic about every single word someone says was a better idea.

yes, by the definition, pedantic is caring too much about small details. honing in on me using the word "need" is pedantic as shit. it seems you should gift that to yourself bud.

anyways. @/thebiggerbear spams fandom tags with AI art without disclosing except in the original tags, which are promptly removed by anyone who reblogs without adding them on their own. you should let them know that that's not cool!

[thiah-2]

An fyi... thebiggerbear is an AI user. *Shudders* Some of the hands and feet in their pictures... are VERY creepy. Don't look too closely. *Shudders*

[relevant-catnik]

just wanted to let you know there's an incessant AI "artist" clogging up fandom tags who's not disclosing their art is AI except in their original tags, which means it's not clear it's AI unless you reblog directly from the source, and even then you can miss it. you seem pretty against AI so I figured id let you know. the user is thebiggerbear and the post you reblogged in case you wanted to delete or modify it can be found at the link tumblr slash yourblogname slash 734337265910874112

Thanks for the heads up!

[luxuryclothart]

(via I'm the bigger bear Premium T-Shirt by Luxuryclothart ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐)

[thebiggerbear]

Dean Winchester x Reader - Prompt Response - "I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that."

Summary: You and Dean refuse to speak to one another after an argument and Sam has finally had enough.

A/N: Prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting (#941). I loved writing this but I always love it when it comes to Dean. 😊 And of course, I couldn't resist when it came to Sam in the end. Brothers, gotta love 'em. ;)

Thank you to my beta Em for her services. You rock, girl!

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader; Dean Winchester x Female!Huntress!Reader

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Warnings: mentions of implied sex

Word Count: 1449

Dean Taglist: @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl; @brightlilith

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that."

Soldier Boy version | Beau version | Jenny version | Jason version | Tom version | CJ version | Rachel version | Anael version | SDV Leah version | Alec version

Dean snuck a glance at you only to quickly look away when you looked up from your lore book. In return, you snuck a peek at him but pretended you were looking at something else when he lifted his head from one of the hunter’s journals he’d found in storage. 

Sam had watched this infuriating dance happen at least twelve times by now and it was getting on his last nerve. At first, he thought it was hopeful. Then heartbreaking. Now it was just damn aggravating, more so because he knew his older brother was being his usual stubborn self. All he needed to do was come out and apologize already, and Dean knew that yet still refused to budge an inch.

You and Dean had gotten into an argument during the last hunt. He’d been upset that you had taken on three vamps by yourself—something you had done back in your high school days, along with killing other creepy things that slithered out of the dark. You were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, which you had proven multiple times, and you knew when to ask for help. Dean didn’t want to hear it, claiming you could have been killed had he and Sam not been close by. You both dug in your heels no matter what Sam said, and you two were still at an impasse, giving each other the silent treatment. Still, that didn’t stop the longing glances Dean gave you when you weren’t looking, or the sad looks you gave him when he was none the wiser. It was driving Sam nuts. He had never met two people who were so stubborn—aside from his parents, of course—and now that he thought about it, stubborn or not, you and Dean were well-suited for one another.

“You know,” Sam broke the silence. “At some point, you two are going to have to talk to each other again.”

Dean shot him a surreptitious glare. You had no problem offering a withering glare of your own.

“Look,” Sam continued. “Y/N is right, she can take care of herself and if she needs our help, she’ll say something.” At your triumphant smile, Dean’s gaze darkened.

“No one asked you to butt in, Sammy,” he warned.

Sam nearly rolled his eyes. “If I don’t, this won’t get resolved because you both are too hard-headed to make the first move. Y/N,” Your eyes darted over to him. “My idiot brother won’t say it but the reason he got upset is because he’s scared.”

Dean’s free hand clenched into a fist and he gave a subtle shake of his head. Sam ignored him and continued, “He’s scared something is going to happen to you and he won’t be there to stop it. That’s why he freaked out that night. He’s not trying to tell you what to do or be a controlling jerk. He just wants you to be safe, that’s all.”

You bit your lip and turned your attention to Dean, who suddenly seemed very interested in the book in his lap. “Is that true?”

After a moment, he ground out, “Yeah. It’s true.”

You stood up, letting the book in your own lap fall to the ground with a heavy thud, and made your way over to Dean. You ripped the book out of his hands, tossed it to the floor, ignored Sam’s irritation at your carelessness with such old tomes, and crawled into Dean’s lap, his hands instantly coming around you to support you. You wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned down to kiss him. You felt him immediately begin to relax under your touch and only when his lips were completely pliant and moving with yours did you pull back, staring into his green eyes.

“Why couldn’t you just tell me that?”

He slid his hand up your back and to your hair, tenderly rubbing the strands between his fingers. “I don’t know. I just… That vamp had you in a hold and it scared the crap out of me when I couldn’t reach you fast enough. What if he had gotten more of a drop on you? What if—”

You gently placed your fingers against his lips, stopping him from finishing that question. “He didn’t. I killed my first vamp at 12, took out my first nest when I was 16. Hunting’s in my blood just as much as it is yours. I know what I’m doing.” You ran your fingers through his hair reassuringly, scratching at his scalp, and watched him lean into the touch. “But if you want, we can talk about it. We’ll come up with a plan that makes you feel better and works for both of us. Okay?”

He gave you a dopey smile that melted your heart. The magic touch had worked; the tension from before had finally lifted. “Okay, baby. Sounds good to me.”

You kissed him again, this time with a little more passion. “You know what else sounds good?” You murmured to his lips when you both needed a breath.

Those green eyes you loved so much immediately lit with an all-too familiar fire. “Do tell.”

You leaned in and whispered your plan into his ear, making sure Sam wouldn’t overhear. By the time you pulled back, he was grinning like crazy. Clearing his throat, he helped you off of his lap and back onto your feet as you both turned to face Sam, a mischievous smirk fighting its way onto your face. You knew that would get him going.

“Actually, I just remembered I left the…stove on in the kitchen. And Y/N here has to go call Jody to…give her an update on the case and how it’s going.”

Sam gave you both a look; he wasn’t buying it. You turned and gave the same look to Dean. He really hadn’t come up with anything better than that? “I hate you.”

“You have a weird way of showing that,” he teased, subtly rubbing up against you and smirking. This man was so lucky you loved him.

You shook your head and looked away, your cheeks growing hot. The bastard was turning you on even more and he knew it. It’d been almost two weeks, the longest you’d gone without since — well, since meeting him.

Sam was the one to clear his throat this time. “Whatever. Happy you both are talking to one another again. Now, go do what you’re going to do but just not in front of me, please. Okay? And you’re welcome.”

Dean shot Sam a look but he was too happy to care what Sam was intimating about his being the one who settled things between the two of you. He gave his younger brother a wide smile. “If you need us, we’ll be…” He trailed off, gesturing to the hallway that led to the rooms.

“Oh my God,” you muttered in embarrassment as you grabbed his hand and pulled him after you.

“Oh, hey!” Sam yelled. “Keep out of my room this time, Dean. I mean it!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean called back.

You had just turned the corner when Dean immediately had you up against the wall, kissing you passionately and picking you up, prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist. When you pulled back for air, your brow furrowed in confusion at seeing Dean move past his door. “Dean,” you panted. “Where are you going? You just passed your room.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled.

“Okay, then where are you taking me?”

His smirk was so wicked you knew what the answer was before he said it. “Sammy’s room.”

“Dean, are you kidding me? No!”

“Relax, we won’t be in there long.”

“You know how upset he was last time and he just said—”

Dean came to a stop and kissed the crap out of you, effectively silencing you. You may have been a little dazed when he finally let you get some air. “He’s got the better bed and I want the very best for you, baby.” He then gave you a salacious smirk and leaned in. “Plus I know how much you love that headboard.”

He waggled his eyebrows at you as certain memories replayed in your mind. You were able to hold onto that headboard for a long time, it held you up well, and same for Dean…oh shit. Sorry, Sam.

“What are you waiting for?” You bit out impatiently, slipping your tongue into his mouth and swallowing his chuckle. As he walked you into Sam’s room, shutting and locking the door behind him, you made a mental note to later google the hell out of this headboard and find one for Dean’s bed.

[hcwthewestwaswcn]

shoutout to the peeps i follow

@thebiggerbear @forgedunderfire @onlydevilsleft @whateverthecostner @lizzydutton @bellarkeselection ya'll are so amazing, and i am so glad that i know you. thankful for ya'll and glad that i know you :)

[thebiggerbear]

Soldier Boy x Reader - Prompt Response - "I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that."

Summary: You're pissed that he put himself at risk yet again.

A/N: Prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting (#941). This was too much fun to play with. Soldier Boy is something, that's for sure lol. Hope this is alright.

Thank you to my beta Em for her services. You rock, girl!

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Female!Reader; Soldier Boy x Female!Supe!Reader

Warnings: mentions of violence; mentions of sex; implied sex; Soldier Boy being himself; language (I guess?)

Word Count: 1881

SB Taglist: @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl; @brightlilith

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that."

Beau version | Dean version | Jenny version | Jason version | Tom version | CJ version | Rachel version | Anael version | SDV Leah version | Alec version

<-->

You stormed into the suite you and Soldier Boy shared in Vought Tower. The supe strolled in after you, a scowl on his face as he shut the door behind him.

You waved around your hand and suddenly, a glass flew out of the cabinet, landing on the counter. A bottle of the finest whiskey you owned made its way from the bar as ice cubes from the fridge settled softly into the glass. Once the whiskey was poured and the bottle was safely settled beside it, you held out your hand and the drink slowly fit itself into your palm. You took a sip, letting the liquid travel down to the pit of your stomach, and relished the fire it stoked; it was a fire that had already started during your mission.

“Got one of those for me, doll?”

You scoffed and walked away from the kitchen—away from him. “You’ve got working limbs. Use them and make it yourself.” You didn’t need to turn around to know that that response pissed him off. Well, too damn bad; you were pissed as well.

You headed into the bedroom and, heaving a deep breath, you began to take off your gear. Soldier Boy came in behind you, but you refused to turn around.

“Come on, you’re making a big deal over nothing.”

“Nothing?” You spun on your heel, glaring at him. “You could have been killed, Ben!”

He was glaring right back at you. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t. I did what I had to do to take that fascist fuck down.” 

You let out a frustrated huff as you slammed your gloves down onto the dresser next to you. “You are the most stubborn, pig-headed jackass I’ve ever met! You just refuse to hear what I’m saying to you!”

Hands grabbed onto your hips and spun you around, bringing you face to face with a very turned on Ben. Of course. You knew he loved it when you would get angry since he could “fuck it right out of you,” as he’d once told you when you’d asked why he enjoyed riling you up so much. “Best fucking ride I get to take,” were his exact words. He’d given you a salacious grin and then that deep laugh when you’d smacked his bare shoulder. The action didn’t, and wouldn’t, hurt him in the slightest; in fact, he’d pulled you closer and you had taken the opportunity to run your fingers through his sweaty locks.

Ben leaned in to kiss you, thinking things were about to pop off once again (he was pretty sure he’d never seen you this pissed off before and he wanted to skip the yelling altogether, get right to the fun part), but you prevented him from doing so. The impatient frown you’d expected was in place and you cupped his cheeks to meet his eyes. He knew this was a sign that you wanted him to really listen to you.

“Ben, you can’t keep doing things like this,” you told him in a softer tone but laced with as much firmness as before. “You’re not invincible, you know that.”

His lips lifted up into a smirk. “Pretty damn close, though.”

You let out a sigh of frustration and decided you’d had enough. A bluish white haze came over your vision and you saw Ben’s eyes widen as your palms began to glow. You showed him your perspective of the day’s events: how you’d watched the missile launched by the townspeople, heading straight towards the building he was in; how you’d been unable to stop it but still slowed it down enough so that more people could get out of there; how everyone had been clear except him and the asshole dictator and their regime that he’d been ordered to kill; how you’d screamed for him to get clear because you couldn’t hold it back much longer; how you’d finally collapsed because you had no juice left, only able to helplessly watch as the weapon slammed into the building. You let him feel your heartbreak, your grief, your pain from thinking he was dead. And then you shared with him the massive relief you felt once he managed to dig his way out, dirty but unscathed nonetheless—and then your anger once he told you he’d heard you yell for him but he had to take down the dictator. He chose to stay inside, knowing he could very well die, and he was okay with that. He simply snorted at the idea that he should run for cover, for safety, and that enraged you.

You ended this viewing with memories you swore you’d never show him (but would if that’s what it took to get your point across). You both watched as you first met—your apparent disgust towards him; your perception of him changing over time; the first time you’d let him into your bed, how you two grew closer; the look on his face when you demanded exclusivity or you’d walk after you’d found him with a receptionist from the 28th floor willingly on her knees; the contentment you felt being partners with him both inside the job and out of it; your worry for him each time he separated from you on a mission; the threats you’d made to Stan Edgar if he ever tried to have another Nicaragua happen again and the hell you’d unleash if he did; the tenderness you watched him with as he slept after having more nightmares; your compassion for him the one time he’d mentioned his father to you; the enjoyment of spending time with him watching things from the past and watching him laugh or enthusiastically tell you about that time, and finally, the kicker — the love you’d started to feel for him. You moved your hands away, the glow disappearing as did your haze, and you turned away from him. You hadn’t meant to show him that last part or let him in that deeply. You had been waiting for the right time, which you were pretty sure would be never, but when your emotions ran high like they did today, it was harder to keep everything behind the wall you usually kept in place.

Instead, you quietly cleared your throat and decided to act as if he hadn’t just heard those last thoughts. “You get it now? How dangerous that was? How dangerous it is every time you do some stupid crap like that?”

He gripped your chin and forced you to meet his gaze again. 

“Ben, you can’t keep—”

He cut you off by leaning in and kissing you. Instead of turning it dirty like he usually did or ramping it up, he pulled back after a minute and stared into your eyes. “I do, too, you know,” he murmured.

You were afraid to ask. Still, you had to know. “Yeah?”

He ran his thumb tenderly over your bottom lip. “Yeah.” You studied him as he studied you in return. For once, you didn’t see any hint of amusement, bullshit, or even lust. He was telling you the truth.

You lifted a hand to run your fingers through his hair, which made him shut his eyes halfway; you knew he liked it when you did that. “Then you can’t keep doing things like this.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and he lowered his forehead onto yours. “I thought you were dead today,” you let out in a broken whisper. He had really scared the shit out of you… You had been beyond devastated for those few minutes.

“I’m right here in front of you, sweetheart,” he reassured you, giving you a sweet smile that you only saw when it was just the two of you. 

“But what if—”

“I’ll be more careful from now on,” he promised, kissing you once more. He then grinned wolfishly. “So, do those magic hands of yours work both ways?”   

You knew they did but you’d never told him that. He’d only seen you use them to insert images sometimes into your targets to paralyze them or make them vulnerable, but you’d never actually used them on him before. “They can,” you answered carefully. “But I don’t usually do that. I don’t like reading someone’s thoughts without their consent.”

“So all this time we’ve been rolling around, you’ve never once tuned in?”

“No,” you insisted, offended and moving away from him. “I can only imagine the jizz-soaked apocalyptic ride through unforgettable hell that would be. There probably isn’t enough alcohol in the world to try and wipe those memories from my mind.”

He caught your wrist and gently placed your hand against his bearded cheek. “Read mine now.”

“Ben,” you pleaded. “Please don’t make—”

“Trust me.” He leaned in closer. “Read ‘em.”

You weren’t sure you wouldn’t be retching after this. He’d literally just learned you loved him and he implied he felt the same, so if he showed you the highlights of his glory days, you swore you’d nut punch him after you got sick and then force him to relive your own highlights and how much you very much still enjoyed those from time to time. Usually, of course, when you were alone in the shower.

You took a deep breath and opened the connection. You were suddenly flooded with images of your greatest hits: him going to town on you and being merciless, making you cry out his name in passion; the furniture you’d broken during your escapades and the walls you’d cracked, even one floor you’d broken through (right into the middle of a table being used for a board meeting but that didn’t stop either of you—if anything, Ben enjoyed everyone watching him give it to you and making you almost feral in chasing your high); you taking charge and putting him on his back, your eyes having a bluish white glow as you smirked wickedly down at him before taking what was yours and truthfully had been yours since you’d said you wanted him all to yourself. You could hear your cries and moans echoing in your ears along with his grunts and yells and dirty talk you both loved. You could hear other sounds too—sounds that made your cheeks warm—and you could feel the lust and heat rising within you as that same bluish white haze settled upon your vision.

You suddenly broke the connection. His brow furrowed in confusion before you growled out, “Suit off. Now.”

His typical smirk returned as he began to undo his chest plate.

“Not fast enough.” You waved your hand and Ben’s suit undid itself at the same time yours did. The shield planted itself in the corner where it usually sat while the clothes situated themselves beside it. Both of you were stark naked but that wasn’t enough. You flicked a finger and Ben was immediately shoved back onto the bed, right where you wanted him. You clambered up on top of him and positioned yourself, his hands on your hips to help you, when you leaned down to look into his eyes.

“I hate you.”

His grin was wide, knowing you definitely didn’t mean it. “You have a weird way of showing that.”

You snorted and kissed him, taking what you now knew was undoubtedly yours.

[thebiggerbear]

Beau Arlen - Prompt Response - "Sleep. I'll keep you safe."

Summary: Your house is broken into one night when Beau wasn't home and now you find yourself expecting it to happen again at any moment. Will you ever feel safe in your home again?

Pairing: Beau Arlen x Female!Reader; Beau Arlen x Female!Lawyer Reader

A/N: Prompt from @thelonelyempath. My brain immediately settled on this idea when I decided to respond to this prompt from more than one character. It just seemed to fit. Hope this is alright.

A huge thank you to my beta Em for her services. You rock, girl!

Warnings: mentions of break-in, mentions of guns, mentions of possible violence scenarios, implied possible assault scenario

Word Count: 4030

Beau Taglist: @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl

"Sleep. I'll keep you safe."

Soldier Boy version | Dean version | Jenny version | Tom version | Jason version | Anael version | SDV Alex version

<-->

You checked and rechecked the locks on the windows of your upstairs bedroom. You’d never admit it aloud, but you were nervous and on edge.

The other night, Beau had had to work late due to some case that had dropped into his lap near the end of the work day. When he’d called, all apologetic, you’d told him it was no problem. You lived with a lawman so you knew how it could go sometimes, and you knew to adjust accordingly. The simple solution? You ordered takeout and decided to indulge in some wine and Netflix. 

Once you’d finished half of the newest season of Virgin River, you decided it was time for bed. Sadly, Beau had gotten so tied up with the same case and wouldn’t be home for a few more hours, and that was only if he was lucky. You made sure both doors were locked, turned the lights off, and headed upstairs. At one point, you smiled to yourself at the thought of perhaps waiting to get into bed before calling your cowboy and enticing him to lock himself away in his office or car for a bit.

You had just finished your nightly routine, slipped on the silkiest nightgown you owned, and crawled onto the bed. You positioned yourself as best as you could, smiled as you flipped over to Beau’s contact picture, digging your teeth into your bottom lip. You were just about to facetime the sheriff, hoping he would move away from anyone he was around to answer it, when you heard a sudden breaking of glass downstairs.

You froze, your heart pounding and a part of you wondering if the wine glass you’d left on the counter had fallen off. Then you heard it again. This time a larger volume of glass broke and it was obvious that there was force behind it. You knew then that someone was trying to break into your house. Your mind began to race; to outsiders, your house gave all the tell-tale signs that its owner was home, moving about and/or possibly asleep. Whoever was downstairs was making a lot of noise, and if someone intentionally broke into a house that was clearly occupied, it could only mean one thing.

You jumped off the bed and ran to the closet, speedily entering in the combo for Beau’s gun safe. You grabbed the gun, made sure it was loaded, and hurried to close the bedroom door, hitting the lock. You swiped your cell phone off the bed and called 911, huddling in a corner that couldn’t be seen right away from the door should someone bust in. You kept the gun pointed at the door as you quietly gave the dispatcher your address and all the info needed. You remained on the call with them until the police arrived in record time.

Beau hadn’t been too far behind them, Poppernak having heard the call come through and letting him know immediately. You were in a robe and a pair of Uggs you had thrown on quickly, talking to the responding officers, when your boyfriend pulled up, jumping out of Pedro and running right over to you. He gathered you up in his arms and lifted you off the ground. “Thank God,” he whispered, holding you to him. After a moment, he gently placed you back on your feet and cupped your face, studying you intently. “Are you alright?”

You nodded, still not fully able to speak. The adrenaline was still running rampant through your body, yet fear and shock were slowly starting to make their presence known as well.

He gave you a tender smile and pulled you in for a hug, holding your body against him in a way to further reassure you that everything was alright. And if it wasn’t, you knew he would do everything in his power to make it so.

The officers had taken your statement and assessed the damage, but the suspects had gotten away before the cops showed up. That’s right, suspects — as in plural. Your neighbor across the street, Melanie Layton, had seen them running down the street to the soundtrack of police sirens getting closer; said persons then disappeared in a car that she didn’t know the make or model of, nor could she make out the vehicle’s color. She had just pulled into her driveway, having finished a long evening shift at the nursing home she worked at, and between the darkness and her own exhaustion, she hadn’t been able to really see much of what had happened.

That evening, Beau brought you out to the camper he kept even though he’d moved in with you four months prior. His reasoning had been that you two could take a break from the town should you ever need it, and that night, you’d never been more grateful for his thinking ahead. He stayed in bed with you until you fell asleep. and when you woke up in the middle of the night to find him not in the camper, you quickly discovered that he was sitting outside in one of the deck chairs, sipping coffee and cradling a shotgun in his lap. 

He’d given you a smile when you stepped outside. “I didn’t wake you, did I, darlin’?”

You crossed your arms and inclined your head towards the gun. “What’s that for?”

He shrugged. “I just feel better having it handy is all.”

“So you’ve got a shotgun while you’re sitting on the porch.” You sat down in the chair next to him, flashing him a smile of your own. “What’s next? Yelling at kids to get off your lawn?”

He didn’t laugh at your teasing like you’d expected him to. Instead, he held out a hand to you and you took it. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there, sweetheart.”

“Beau, you had to work. It’s okay.”

Beau let out a heavy sigh and lowered the shotgun safely to the ground with his other hand before pulling you over to sit with him. “No, it ain’t. I should have let Hoyt handle that case and I should have been home with you.”

You weren’t quite sure what to say. You knew it wasn’t his fault, of course, and how could it be? Still, a part of you was still coming down from earlier and your thoughts were running rampant. What if the suspects had come through the bedroom door? What if you’d had to shoot one — or both? Worse, what if you had frozen up and they came upstairs to find you all alone, defenseless and in a vulnerable position? What if you hadn’t even heard them and you were facetiming Beau when they found you? What if you had been able to convince Beau to go somewhere private for a few and you had been in the middle of—

You squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting that thought to go any further, and instead laid your head on Beau’s shoulder. He kissed your forehead and rubbed soothing circles into your back.

“We’re going to get through this,” he quietly reassured you.

You opened your eyes and nodded. “We will. I know we will.” 

A sweet smile formed on his face and he grabbed the blanket that had been wrapped around him and carefully wrapped it around both of you. You had snuggled into him and he pressed a kiss to your hair before laying his head on top of yours, holding you close. You had stayed like that for the rest of that night.

Presently, the police still hadn’t been able to find the suspects even though they checked street cams, traffic cams, canvassed the neighbors, and even took another run at Melanie in case she remembered anything more from that night. At first they tried to dismiss it as most likely two young guys high on meth looking for an easy score, but after one glare from Beau, the detectives assigned to your case cleared their throats and assured you they’d delve deeper. You had been asked to come up with a list of anyone that might be less than pleased with you and, being a county attorney that worked the Criminal Division, that list was bound to be long. You’d even had to think back to your time in Bozeman. Still, nothing panned out. The cops literally had nothing to go on, but they said they would keep you updated about any new developments that came up.

Beau hadn’t left your side for the first two days, electing to have his undersheriff delegate any new cases that came in and handle anything that he usually would. You both had stayed in the AirStream since you weren’t ready to go back home yet. He’d cooked for you, made you laugh, he’d taken you out and about to get your mind off things, and he’d held you close at night. He kept his gun next to the bed as an added means of making you feel safe, but you already felt safer just being with him and being out of that house. Feeling better or not, however, that didn’t mean you didn’t have your moments. When a server had accidentally dropped a glass at the diner Beau had taken you to for breakfast, you had nearly launched out of your seat with how high you’d jumped. Some young guy had stared at you a little too long as you and Beau walked down the sidewalk, and you immediately moved into your boyfriend and dug your fingers into his side when you passed the stranger. You didn’t feel comfortable being anywhere alone in town, feeling as if the moment you were, someone would either grab you, attack you, or hurt you then and there, and you wouldn’t see it coming. You were beyond grateful that you were allowed to conceal and carry, and you were even more thankful that your father had made sure you knew how to hunt, fish, and, most importantly, shoot by your eleventh birthday.

You knew what was happening and why you felt the way you did. You’d dealt with this situation enough in your job — you’d spoken with enough victims of burglaries and home invasions — so you knew the break-in had rattled you. You hated it; being scared of your own shadow wasn’t you, yet you couldn’t help how you were feeling even with Beau as a constant reassurance at your side. 

You really appreciated the careful attention he was paying you; after dropping you off for a visit with Cassie and Denise, a visit that was much-needed and much-enjoyed, he’d even replaced the back door that the would-be thieves had busted in their haste to get inside. There had been a beautiful back door with multiple panes of glass that allowed the sunlight in to brighten up the kitchen each morning, one of the features of the house that had you signing a lease two years ago when you’d moved back to town. What was broken had been replaced by an even nicer door that still allowed your kitchen to have that beautiful golden-hour glow, and the sheriff himself had installed it, locks and everything. Overall, Beau had been amazing and supportive, truly there for you without you needing to ask him to be. But eventually, after a few days, he did have to return to work and so did you. 

He’d had Jenny do a walk-through of the house with the both of you on your first night back. They both made sure all of the locks were working and Beau showed you the new alarm that had been installed as well as cameras on both entryways — everything was secure. Jenny had even posted a deputy outside your house for your first night.

But here you were, obsessively checking every entry point into your bedroom, the place that had served as your safe haven up until the other night. The aluminum bat that you’d purchased was placed next to the bed and you made sure your phone was fully charged in case you needed to call 911 again. You confirmed you had a full clip in your gun that was sitting on your nightstand. Beau had come in some time ago and watched your every movement as he got ready for bed. Only when you checked the locks on the window for the sixth time in your circuit did he slowly approach you.

“Honey, we’re sealed up tight. No one’s getting in without us knowing about it. Plus, Poppernak’s sitting outside. We’re good.” He wrapped his arms around you and hugged you from behind. “Why don’t you come to bed?” He whispered huskily into your ear. 

Any other night, you wouldn’t have needed to be asked twice, but this wasn’t any other night. “Did you make sure the alarm was set?”

He carefully turned you in his arms to face him, cupping your chin and lifting your eyes to meet his. “We’re safe, sweetheart. I promise.”

“I know, I just—”

“We’re safe,” he reiterated, brushing your hair back behind your ear.

You nodded and let out a deep breath. “I know. I’m just…” You struggled to get the words out. “They picked us.” At Beau’s furrowing of his brows, you elaborated: “Out of all the houses on this block they could’ve picked, they picked ours. They knew someone was home. How many cases have you worked where the suspects broke in while someone was in the house and that someone didn’t get hurt? I’m not talking run-ins, I’m talking purposeful breaking and entering, fully knowing someone was there. Because the cases I’ve had where that happens don’t usually have a happy ending.”

Beau mulled over your words for a moment, licking his lips as he tended to do when he was nervous or was about to spout some of that wisdom of his. Given the subject at hand, you knew it had to be the latter.

He framed your face with his hands and stared into your eyes. “Honey, we’re gonna find them. Okay? Helena PD is looking everywhere and so are we. We’re turning over every rock, checking out every possible place they could be.”

“But we don’t even know who they are,” you pointed out. 

“No,” he agreed. “But we have a description to go on. If they risked breaking in like they did, not caring who heard or saw, then they’re bound to make the same mistake again. It’s only a matter of time.”

“So someone else could get hurt before they’re finally caught?”

His brows began to furrow as he stroked your cheeks with his thumbs. “Sure hope not. But I promise you, we’re gonna find them. Soon they’ll be in jail where they belong, and in the meantime, you’re safe.”

You scoffed and pulled away from him. You knew he was just trying to help, to reassure you, but your nerves were frayed — had been fraying since the break-in. “You can’t promise that, Beau, no one can. What happens the next time you have to work late on a case, or you have to travel to testify in a case from Houston like you did a few months ago? Or what if I work late and I’m walking to my car, alone, and…” You couldn’t even finish that sentence, the idea absolutely frightening to you. “And the thing is you’re saying you’ll find them but how can you? You only have a description, not fingerprints, DNA, a profile, a license plate, a make or model of the getaway car — nothing. They could literally be parked behind Poppernak right now, waiting to get in here again, and he wouldn’t even know because no one knows what they look like!” You finished the last part in a yell of frustration. You weren’t mad at him, it wasn’t his fault, and you didn’t mean to lash out, but you were so tired of the bullshit assurances that everyone — from Jenny to the detectives to your friends — had given you the last few days when you knew better.

Beau studied you for a moment and then slowly approached you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into him. “How long have you been feeling this way?” He murmured into your ear.

“What? Frustrated?” You laughed but there was no mirth in it.

“Unsafe,” he clarified.

You dug your fingers into the back of his shirt and you could feel the familiar burning in the corners of your eyes. “Since the break-in,” you whispered.

He pulled back to look at you, sighing. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I thought by fixing the door, installing the alarm system and the cameras, and having Jenny do the walk-through with us… I thought all of that would make you feel better. I should’ve realized that maybe it was too soon for us to come back here after what happened.”

You shook your head. “It’s not that. I appreciate everything you and Jenny have done, and I won’t let anyone keep me out of my own home. It’s just…”

“It’s just what?”

You bit your lip, debating on how to tell him this next part. You knew he would be more than understanding, but for some strange reason you hated even giving voice to it. If you spoke it aloud, it might dare the universe and next time, you might not be so lucky.

“Y/N?”

You let out an uneasy breath and circled your arms around his neck, staring into his eyes. You forced yourself to admit to him what was really bothering you. “That night… When you were going to be late…”

His eyebrows flashed upwards, urging you to continue.

“I wasn’t… I was underdressed.”

You could see confusion starting to layer his expression but he gave you a nod of understanding. “You were getting ready to go to bed, you said.” 

“I was getting ready to facetime you.” When he still didn’t pick up on your meaning, you gave him a look. “So we could have a moment alone. Together.”

“Oh.” His eyes widened slightly when the realization hit him of just what you were talking about. “Oh.”

You nodded, retracting your arms and trying to step back a little, but his hand caught your hip to keep you from leaving. “I just keep thinking, what if I hadn’t heard them breaking in? What if they had come upstairs, into the room, and saw us? What if they…” You swallowed the rapidly forming lump in your throat, unable to finish that thought out loud. You noticed Beau’s jaw tighten, but his eyes remained soft as they stayed trained on you.

He urged you to close the gap between you with a gentle squeeze to your hip. “C’mere, sweetheart,” he whispered, encasing you in his arms once more. He hugged you tighter and you buried your face into his shoulder, inhaling his comforting scent. “That didn’t happen and it’s never going to happen.”

“You don’t know that,” you choked out. “One night you might not be here and then—”

“No one will ever lay a goddamn finger on you while I’m still breathing,” he vowed menacingly. “I promise you that, baby.”

You hugged him tighter, sniffling. It had always amazed you just how secure and at home you felt while in his arms before this; now, you were grateful for the feeling and you wanted to bury yourself in it until this other terrible feeling went away. Logically, you knew that Beau couldn’t be with you every single second of the day and you shouldn’t want that to be the case yourself, but right now, until you felt secure in your own home again, you really didn’t want to be here without him.  

After holding you for a few minutes, he gently moved to wipe a tear that had begun to make its way down your cheek. He offered you a reassuring smile while his eyes were lit with the fire of determination in what he’d promised you. “Whaddya say we move this conversation to the bed?” Your jaw dropped and his eyes bugged out of his head as he scrambled to correct himself, “I didn’t mean like that. I only meant that you’re tired — we’re both tired, and I thought maybe it would be better if we laid down and tried to get some shuteye, that’s all. I—shit. I’m sorry, honey.”

A laugh escaped you, surprising you both. Things had been so serious since the break-in, so intense, even a few minutes ago, that it felt good to laugh again. Just like he had been making you laugh back in the camper — something you never thought you’d experience in this house again. It was a pleasant and welcome surprise. You actually felt yourself start to relax a little. 

Beau beamed down at you, happy to feel some of the tension easing away from your body. “So, bed then?”

You lifted up on your toes and pecked his lips, grinning. “Bed.”

He waggled his eyebrows playfully at you, smirking, as he took your hand and led you over to the bed. Once you both were settled in, you snuggled up to his chest and his arm came around you. You felt even more tension melt away from you which was nice. You didn’t realize just how tightly wound you’d been since you walked back into this house.

“You know, if you wanted, I could start looking around for a new place for us,” he murmured to your hairline.

You frowned and fidgeted with his t-shirt. “I don’t want to be run out of my own home.”

“No one’s running you out of anywhere, sweetheart,” he promised. “But I do want you to feel safe. Whether I’m here or not.”

You thought it over for a moment. You’d been in this house for two years and you’d never had an issue, not until now. This was supposed to be one of the safer neighborhoods and you even knew a few of your neighbors. You’d been to their Christmas parties and Sunday dinners — you’d even been to Sarah Tyler’s daughter’s 5th birthday party at the beginning of the year. You didn’t own this house, yet it had become a home to you. You weren’t sure that you wanted to leave. But you also weren’t sure that you could feel one hundred percent comfortable here ever again. You hated the crux you were in. 

Almost as if Beau heard your thoughts earlier, he whispered against your skin, “If you’re worried about the kitchen door, we’ll take it with us.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “We can’t take the door with us.”

“Sure we can.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “I installed that puppy and I can take it back down.”

“And leave the house without a back door?” You teased. “Not sure I’ll get my security deposit back when they notice that missing.”

“Nah, we’ll just grab a door from Home Depot and give ‘em that one. I’ll even install it for them for free so you can get that deposit back.”

“My hero,” you joked, turning your head upwards and kissing him.

 “Just think about it, okay?” He murmured to your lips. “You don’t have to decide right now, but at least think about it.”

“Okay.” You smiled when he tenderly brushed your hair back with his hand before kissing you again.

He helped you to settle back down against him and gently rubbed your back, something that made you close your eyes. You were starting to nod off when you heard him murmur, “Sleep. I’ll keep you safe, baby.” Your smile reappeared hearing his voice reverberate underneath you, knowing he meant every single word.

“Love you,” you whispered, kissing his chest and snuggling into him once more.

“Love you, too, darlin’.” His other arm came around you and he kissed your forehead. “Love you, too.”    

You weren’t quite sure what you would decide when it came to the house, but you knew one thing: here, in Beau’s arms, knowing he would do whatever it took to make you feel secure again, you were starting to feel just that bit safer already.

[thebiggerbear]

Soldier Boy x Reader - Prompt Response - "Sleep. I'll keep you safe."

Summary: You're tired of running and you go to Soldier Boy for protection. He agrees to do it but not without a price.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Female!Reader

A/N: Prompt from @thelonelyempath. The original character I wanted to respond to this prompt with before deciding to make it multi-character. This scenario immediately popped into my head reading the line and I just had to write it. Hope it's okay.

Thank you to my beta Em for her services. You rock, girl!

Warnings: violence/murder; implied assassination attempts; sexual propositioning; Soldier Boy being himself; starts out as a blackmail type dynamic that appears as if a little dubcon at first; language?

Word Count: 2528

SB Taglist: @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl; @brightlilith

"Sleep. I'll keep you safe."

Beau version | Dean version | Jenny version | Tom version | Jason version | Anael version | SDV Alex version

<-->

You never thought in a million years that you would be seeking out one of the most dangerous Supes in the world for protection. Then again, you never would have thought that a multi-billion dollar corporation would be after you, intent on seeing you torn apart and scattered to the four winds. You didn’t exactly blow the whistle on them, but you didn’t exactly tow the company line either—something Stan Edgar was less than thrilled with and now the evil son of a bitch wanted you dead.

It was no secret that Edgar and Soldier Boy had a falling out of sorts after the truth about his being handed to the Russians had come to light. His old team may have made it happen, but it was Edgar pulling the strings all along. Surprisingly, the Supe who had been so focused on revenge hadn’t hunted Edgar down after this revelation, which made you wary about going this route. However, after narrowly escaping the latest death squad sent after you, you decided you had no choice but to take the gamble. There was nowhere you could run that Vought wouldn’t find you and you just hoped this would be more of an ‘enemy of my enemy’ situation rather than a ‘handing you right over to your enemy’ situation.

Once you had managed to track him down in Hong Kong while you were busy running yourself, he had shockingly agreed to a meet, and even more shockingly agreed to help you. Not without certain stipulations, of course.

“Let me in that sweet pussy of yours and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

You should have known, especially from the way he had been eyeing you up ever since he caught sight of you. Screwing your face up in disgust, you flat out refused. “Not happening.”

He shrugged and began to walk away. “Then you must not need my protection that badly.”

You scoffed in disbelief. “You’re seriously turning me down because I won’t fuck you? Whatever happened to the ‘Soldier Boy is America’s son’ bullshit? The OG superhero who fought Nazis and protected people?”

Soldier Boy stopped and slowly turned back towards you. “I’d be putting myself on the line to protect you. For that, I deserve one hell of a payment.” 

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. “So now you’re blackmailing me into sleeping with you? Unbelievable.” You had heard he was more like America’s Asshole than its Son, but you still couldn’t believe your ears. You had even offered to help him take Vought down with what you knew, so long as he kept you safe. You knew he’d want that kind of information. Why else was he hopping from continent to continent in the last few months, trying to shake Vought just like you were? Instead, his dick was taking top priority. Typical. 

“It’s the least you can do, doll.” He faced you fully again, shield hanging off of his arm as if it weighed nothing. “Like you said, I fought for this country, fought the Nazis, and now you’re asking me to play bodyguard while taking on Vought for you. I deserve something worth all that trouble.”

You ran through all other options in your mind. You still had a contact that could possibly put you in touch with someone that wouldn’t mind tapping into Vought’s offshore accounts that weren’t supposed to exist. You were already on Vought’s kill list; what would a few hundred thousand dollars of theirs matter? “I could pay you,” you offered.

“I’m not interested in money.” His eyes roved over you as he approached. “Besides,” he murmured as he came to a stop in front of you. You tensed as he reached up to tuck a strand of your hair that had gotten loose from under your ball cap behind your ear. ”I haven’t had a looker as pretty as you in a long time. Been locked away.” He gently gripped your chin in between his thumb and index finger, his eyes intent on your mouth before lifting to meet yours. A hint of a smirk started to appear on his handsome face when he most likely heard your heart beat starting to increase.

He released you and even took a step back from you, allowing you physical and metaphorical space. “Your call.”

You bit your lip as thoughts chaotically swirled inside your head. On one hand, you refused to be manipulated or pushed into sex with this asshole. No matter how physically attractive he might be, you weren’t willing to get on your back just so he would help you. But on the other hand, the cold hard truth was that you were tired — tired of running, tired of little-to-no sleep, tired of the paranoia that came with such a flight. Hell, at present, you hadn’t slept in almost two days and you were running on fumes; there wasn’t enough caffeine or energy pills in the world to get you through another day with no rest. Your reaction time was already dragging if your last narrow escape was anything to go by. If you continued this way, you’d be dead before the sun started to warm the sky; you were certain of it.

Soldier Boy stared you down. “What’s it gonna be?”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you glanced behind you at a small noise far off down the street. Thankfully, it was an old woman tossing something out onto the pavement, but you couldn’t deny it put you further on edge. You turned back to the Supe whose eyes stayed trained on you. You took a deep breath to steady your nerves and readied your response. His lips began to quirk upwards into a smile; he knew what your answer was going to be before you even said the words.

…

Vought Tower had been completely demolished. Luckily, it had been mostly evacuated before the destruction occurred. A fight between Soldier Boy and the now-dead Homelander had caused most of the damage, but the C4 that had been carefully lined throughout the infrastructure is what ended up bringing it down. 

Before it went boom, Soldier Boy had approached Stan Edgar, who refused to cower in a corner. The Supe respected that, but it didn’t change what he’d come here to do. He gripped Edgar by the throat and lifted him in the air, choking the older man and ignoring the fingers that desperately clawed at his hand.

“I thought we had an agreement,” Edgar rasped out.

Soldier Boy shrugged. “She made me a better one.” He then snapped the man’s neck and tossed his body aside like a rag doll. 

“Oi! We ought to get out of here,” Butcher warned after seeing Stan Edgar lifeless on the floor. “Frenchie’s about to blow this place to fucking hell.”

He glared over at the Brit and picked up his shield. He still didn’t trust him, not after what he and his merry band of assholes had tried to do the last time they’d teamed up, but he’d made a deal with you and he was intent on keeping his end of it. The only conditions Butcher and Captain Lesbo had given this time around was: no civilian casualties and Ryan was off limits. He did his best with the first and he could give less than a fuck on the other. As far as he was concerned, the kid was Butcher’s problem as long as the kid didn’t come looking for some payback once he got older, which Butcher assured he wouldn’t. That, and there better not be Novichok gas waiting at the end of this mission for him. They’d reluctantly agreed, knowing they had no other way to kill Homelander and take down Vought all in one swoop.

“After you.” Soldier Boy gestured for Butcher to leave first. The man scowled but obliged, keeping a wary eye out as he moved. Smirking, Soldier boy followed. The Supe might have enjoyed the reaction—or even tried to settle the score from Butcher’s previous betrayal—if he didn’t have you to get back to. He needed to let you know that you no longer had Stan Edgar or Vought to worry about. He’d kept up his end of the bargain you’d both made — now, finally, you were free.

…

You woke up to the sound of someone moving through the darkness in your room. You grabbed the gun from beneath your pillow and bolted upright as much as you could, trying to get your eyes to adjust so you could get a good shot.

“Relax, it’s just me,” Soldier Boy assured you. 

Recognizing his voice, you slowly lowered the gun and focused on his location. When your eyes finally adjusted, you realized he was near the foot of the bed, completely nude, his hair damp from a fresh shower. “Ben,” you breathed out in relief. “You scared me.”

Through the beams of moonlight shining into the room from the window, you saw him give you a smile and lay his shield down on the floor next to him. “Didn’t mean to.”

You slipped the safety back on the gun and stashed it into the drawer of your nightstand. You hated having it under your pillow at night; it was super uncomfortable and you only needed to do that when Soldier Boy — Ben, as he’d asked you to call him instead — wasn’t around. “Everything go okay?” 

“Better than okay.” You glanced back to see a smirk adorning that handsome face of his, with an all-too familiar gleam in those green eyes. You watched as he slipped on some sweats and then made his way to the opposite side of the bed. You moved onto your side to face him, smiling as he climbed in next to you and sat up against the headboard, turning to grin down at you. Within seconds, he had his arms wrapped around you, pulling you up against him, and he was kissing you a proper hello. He only pulled back when you needed air and tenderly rubbed his nose along yours, nuzzling you. “How about you, doll? Everything go okay while I was gone?”

You nodded and snuggled into his bare chest, letting out a relieved sigh when you felt his warm hands stroking your back. “Everything’s fine,” you assured him, closing your eyes. You’d never admit it aloud, but you felt so much better when he was around. Not only did you feel protected but you just felt better in general. You’d have to be under the pain of torture to admit to him (or yourself) that you actually missed him when he had to leave.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and let his lips linger there, continuing to rub your back just the way you liked. “Edgar and Vought are gone,” he murmured. “The Caped Cunt, too. You’ve got nothing more to worry about.”

Your eyes snapped open and you lifted yourself up to meet his gaze, your brows furrowed. “What?” You asked in shock.

“You heard me.” He stroked your cheek with his thumb, his grin now a smug smile. “You’re safe, baby.”    

Your eyes widened when the realization hit you. “That’s where you went?”

Your only answer was the lengthening of that smile. 

“Jesus, Ben.” So many thoughts and emotions swirled within you all at once. You were free, truly free. You no longer had to worry about Vought death squads hunting you down, Homelander coming for you, or Stan Edgar sending after you any ragtag Supes he could scrounge up. You were free. Although, Ben hadn’t told you that he was about to go on his most dangerous mission yet. He might be America’s original superhero and he might be tough to kill, but that didn’t mean he was completely invincible. He’d admitted as much to you over the last few months. “What if… What if you didn’t—”

He kissed you, effectively cutting you off. “I did,” he hummed against your lips. “Told you I would.”

You nodded, gently tracing his facial features with your hands before gliding down to his shoulders, dipping down the warm expanse of his back and then slowly returning to his chest. As always, he remained patient whenever you did this ritual of checking him for any wounds or injuries, knowing you wouldn’t find any but needing to assure yourself just the same. Truthfully, this man had come to mean more to you than you’d ever imagined would be possible. Hell, there had been a time when it wouldn’t have been possible at all.

When you were done, you met his gaze head on. “Do I want to know?”

Ben remained silent, but his eyes said it all: no, you didn’t want to know. You and Ben may have planned for the downfall of Vought and the ends of Homelander and Stan Edgar, the very same bastards that had put a target on your back in the first place, but that didn’t mean you wanted to hear the gory details of their deaths. You were just grateful Ben had come back to you alive and unharmed. 

You gave him a thin-lipped smile in understanding. “Thank you,” you whispered. 

Ben studied you for a moment, then pulled you in and kissed you again, his fingers slipping through your hair until he grabbed the back of your neck and urged you to meet him more fully. Just as you were getting into it, he broke away and chuckled. “You’re real eager for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?” You shot him a look and the smirk was suddenly back on his face. Without warning, he picked you up to rearrange you in the bed how he wanted you. “Too bad that you need to get some rest. We’re blowing the fuck out of here tomorrow and you’re gonna need to keep up.”

As if he would leave you behind if you couldn’t. “I thought you said Butcher would leave us alone after this.”

“I don’t trust that dicksucking Brit and I trust his bitch of a boss even less.”

You rolled your eyes, smirking when you felt him settle in behind you, knowing how much he enjoyed spooning you like this. “‘Kay,” you agreed. He had successfully protected you this far; you’d follow his lead on this one, too. You shut your eyes and snuggled into your pillow, content to feel his hands on your back caressing you once more. You were just about asleep when you heard him murmur in your ear, “Sleep. I’ll keep you safe.” You smiled when you heard the words he’d been saying to you every night now for many months and your heart lightened when you felt his hands trail from your back to cup protectively over your rounding stomach, rubbing gently. ‘Safe’ is exactly how you felt right in this moment, and the little girl moving to meet her father’s embrace—like she always did when she sensed he was near—only cemented the knowledge that this was the first night neither you nor she were in danger any longer. It gave you a sense of peace you hadn’t known in a long time.

[thebiggerbear]

Something Real - Soldier Boy x Reader

Summary: You had offered him the chance for something the two of you could build, something real, if he gave up the suit for good.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Female Reader

Warnings: angst, character death, implied violence, implied injuries, mentions of blood, mentions of terminal illness/treatments/effects, implied sex, Soldier Boy being himself at times, language (I guess?), tears, heartbreak - I think that pretty much covers everything

Word Count: 9434

A/N: Something I started writing back on Thanksgiving. I was hurting that day, needing heat to ease the pain, and I was working on something else for SB. This just popped into my head (the idea of "warm hands") so I ran with it. Unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine. I picked the name Violet because it's a bit of a reference to the other SB story I'm working on. Please let me know what you think (and please don't kill me).

I heard this song on a Soldier Boy fan edited video on YouTube and ever since then I can't get it out of my head for this one shot. It just makes me see Ben and the reader that much clearer in my mind.

SB Taglist: @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl; @brightlilith

<-->

“I forgot how warm your hands are.”

Ben could feel his devastation threatening to overwhelm him but he quickly forced it away. He had to be strong for you; no time to be a pussy.

As if you had heard his thoughts, you gave him a sad smile, your own eyes starting to blur with unshed tears that you were trying to hold back yourself, not wanting to make this worse for him than you already knew it would be. But then it suddenly hit you that life was indeed short; what did it matter if you let your feelings surrounding your current circumstances show? You had never held back before. Why would you start now? So you let your tears flow but you did your best to turn them into happy tears so whenever he thought back to this moment, he wouldn’t see how scared or sad you really were. You were determined for him to never know the true depths of your fear or despair in this moment.

Instead, you weakly lifted your hand and placed it against his cheek, watching as he briefly closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. His green gaze settled on you once more and you could have sworn you could see a slight shimmer there but in the next moment, it was gone, so you couldn’t be entirely sure. 

Both of you were having flashes of the same memories that your words brought to mind. 

<-->

You were both in bed, naked, you laying sprawled out over him, having just made love for the second time that evening. Ben always called it fucking but you refused to use that word to describe what the two of you did. Sure, he fucked you sometimes but things were more serious between you than you just being a bedwarmer of his or some random pussy for him to stick his dick into and get off as he’d crudely put it. 

They had been ever since you’d caught him by surprise one night after too much whiskey mixed with conversation and you kissed him ever so sweetly. He’d tried to turn it into something else — because he was who he was after all — but you wouldn’t let him. Something changed between you that night and an understanding began to form. If he wanted you, then he’d have to give up everything that wouldn’t allow him to keep you. That meant the women, the drugs, the bad behavior — all of it. You weren’t trying to change him, not at all, but you knew those things weren’t really the true make-up of who he was; it was a mere reflection of the suit and persona Vought encouraged, expected, and enforced. Ben made his own choices of course, but you knew he could do better, be better. And that’s who you wanted; that’s who you loved — the man that belonged with you, not the Supe that belonged to a greedy corporation and the world. But it would have to be up to him to make that final choice. You made that perfectly clear and told him to come to you when he was ready, ready for something real.

And sure enough, despite his keeping away for a while to prove a point, he eventually ended up on your doorstep that night three years ago, dressed in modern day clothing and cleaned up in all manners of the phrase. Ben was ready. He wanted you, he wanted real and most of all, he wanted it with you. 

You’d been together ever since and while things hadn’t been perfect, they’d been perfect enough for the both of you. So here you were, laid out in bliss, listening to his strong heartbeat underneath your ear as his hands glided up and down your bare back. You closed your eyes, smiling, and murmured, “I forgot how warm your hands are.”

Instead of answering you, he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, letting his lips linger there, as he tightened his hold on you, pulling you closer into him. He held you like that for a little while until you could feel him stirring beneath you once more and his caresses turned more insistent before he rolled you onto your back, his kisses feverish as you both started your third round of lovemaking for the night. Supe stamina and all that.

<-->

You winced as you felt another sharp kick to your stomach. “Damn,” you muttered.

Ben’s eyes were immediately on you, worried. “What?”

“Nothing,” you tried to lie but another kick had you flinching. 

He laid down the wrench he had been battling the pipes with and wiped his hands with a rag before making his way over to you. “The kid kicking you again?”

A third kick had your face screwed up in a grimace as you nodded. His jaw tightened and he urged you down onto the sofa before joining you and holding you from behind. He lifted your shirt above your belly and you both watched in fascination as there was a slight movement to it right before you hissed in pain and bit your lip to keep from crying out. Ben lowered his hands and began to rub your skin soothingly. The pain eased and like always, your baby started to settle down, something it did whenever it sensed its father’s strong presence. You assumed it was a Supe thing, since your kid would have half of those V-mutated genes, and you refused to let that worry you in the slightest. There was no guarantee your child would have superpowers like its dad though you wouldn’t be surprised if it inherited his strength if these painful kicks were anything to go by. Either way, you’d cross that superpower bridge if and when you came to it. 

You let out a breath of relief and closed your eyes, leaning your head back against Ben’s shoulder. “I seriously forgot how warm your hands are,” you whispered, enjoying how the warmth both settled your child and you at the same time.

“Don’t know how,” he murmured into your ear. “I hardly ever take them off you.”

You smiled wider at his teasing and wrapped your hands around one of his arms, humming your contentment. After a moment, you opened your eyes to find him watching you with an affectionate smirk. You lifted up and gently kissed him. “I love you.”

His smirk melted into a smile and he leaned down to kiss you one more time. “Back at you, doll.”

And almost as if your child wanted a say, to agree with the sentiments exchanged between both parents, it kicked against Ben’s hand albeit more gently this time, not causing any pain.

<-->

You grinned as you watched Ben teach your daughter, Violet, how to make a snowman. Which really meant he was making it for her. She had her father completely wrapped around her little finger. If there was anything that could bring Soldier Boy to his knees, it was his little girl. The strongest Supe in the world was at the mercy of the whims of your six year old.

You both had been surprised when the child you’d both eagerly been anticipating turned out to be a girl. You were excited — you’d always wanted a little girl. Ben — you weren’t sure how he would react. His heart had been set on a boy and while you could see a faint layer of disappointment shadowing his expression when you heard the doctor’s announcement, the moment he and your newborn daughter locked eyes, he was hers. It turned out you had nothing to worry about, on any counts.

He had promised you he would be better than his father and thus far he’d lived up to that promise. While you both had discussed extensively what type of parenting style you’d be implementing, you weren’t sure what would happen when the tough days of parenthood would hit. And while he had come a long way from his antiquated mindset (which had been beyond painful for the both of you back in the early days of you moving in together), you wanted to make sure that none of that would ever touch your child, literally and figuratively. But it turned out, you really had nothing to worry about. There were only a few instances that you had to gently remind him that it wasn’t the 1940’s anymore and each time he’d apologized, and set about making it right however he could.

Ben pleasantly surprised you in being there for all of the night time feedings, being willing to change a diaper after you’d eventually forced the issue and he found out that it wasn’t as big a deal as he was making it out to be, and taking her from you so you could sleep, shower, or get some time for yourself when he realized he wouldn’t break her. Her tiny form made him nervous and all the more careful. He held her hand when she started walking, read to her at bedtime (even though he secretly told you later there was a lot of pussy bullshit stories the world had available for kids these days), and beamed when one night she’d sleepily hugged him and whispered that Daddy was her hero after a particular conversation they’d had about a story he was reading, when she asked why the main character was going to fight the dragon. “Because he’s the hero, sweetness, and heroes fight the monsters.” You’d found him later standing at the foot of her bed, watching her sleep, an expression of sadness mixed with realization in his face. 

You’d wrapped yourself around his arm, hugging him, as you joined him in his study of your daughter. “You okay?” You whispered after a moment.

He looked unsure how to answer you so you gave him a little time to think of what he wanted to say, smiling as you noticed your daughter’s quiet breathing, her little lips curled up in the cutest pout as she dreamed — of what you had no idea but you hoped it was warm and wonderful and everything she could possibly want in her four and a half years of life.

“She said I was her hero,” Ben admitted quietly.

You turned to glance up at him and caught the furrow of his brows. 

“I’m not really a hero, though.” He pressed his lips together. “Not with the things I’ve done.”

You slipped your hand into his, intertwining your fingers, and squeezed. “Then be one.”

His eyes snapped over to you in question.

You gently framed his face with your hands, forcing him to look at you. “Ever since you decided you wanted something different from what you had before, you have made better decisions every single day. Who you were back then, Ben…that’s not who you are now. So if you want to be a hero,” You briefly glanced at your sleeping daughter. “Her hero, then be one.” 

Ben contemplated your words as you released him and his eyes drifted over the child that had somehow carved herself into his heart in a way that the fucked-up Homelander or the idea of any kid of his that possibly existed out there never had. He was already trying every single day to be better, for her, for you, for himself — and it was something he would keep doing.

“But just so you know,” you whispered to him. “No matter if you wear the suit or you’re just plain ol’ Daddy who reads her stories and threatens the monsters in her closet before she goes to bed each night, you’re already going to be her hero.” You gave him a soft smile and watched as your words played out upon his face. His lips lifted up slightly in the corners and he ran his tender glance over his little girl. It surprised you though when he then turned that smile and gaze onto you.

He marveled at just how simple you made it all sound sometimes. Not that you hadn’t acknowledged his effort or the strides he’d made in attempting to be a better father than his old man — a better man period — but he secretly admired when you gave it to him straight, no bullshit, no matter the subject. And while he wanted his daughter to always see him as the hero she called him earlier, he was grateful that you made sure to make such a distinction in your words: he didn’t have to put the suit back on to be his little girl’s hero. That’s not who she saw him as anyway. She saw him as her hero because he was her dad — and that was enough for her. 

There were times like this where he’d remember exactly why he chose to give everything up for you, why he chose you. You’d seen past the suit, past his public persona, saw all of the good and even more of the bad, and yet you still chose him first, still loved him, and still gave him the family he’d been craving even if it wasn’t how he’d imagined it for years on end. You gave him exactly what you’d promised if he chose you back: something real. And Christ did he love you for it.

Ben had never been very good at saying the three words that seemed to take no effort whatsoever to roll off your tongue every single day, even when it came to your daughter. While he might have had no issue speaking his mind back in the day, when it came to the two important things in his life, he struggled to put into words exactly how he felt about you two or to return the sentiment because it was unfathomable to him. He had never known that he could feel the love he did as a husband, a true partner, never mind as a parent. You both were his world and he wasn’t sure how he’d function without either of you in it. Hell, he wasn’t even sure how he functioned before either of you came along though a small dark part of him knew the answer to that: booze, drugs, sex, violence, and enjoying the Supe high life all combined. But right now, he was feeling that overwhelming feeling again that he hesitated to put a name to but deep down knew what it was. However, instead of just being able to say it, just once, he did the second best thing like he did every time you made him feel like this: he showed you.

He took your hand in his, squeezing, and glanced once more at Violet. Noting again that she was sleeping soundly, he then turned his attention onto you and led you from the room. Once her door was shut, he was on you, his kisses passionate and insistent yet desperate, his hands hungrily trailing your body, before he picked you up and walked you down the hall to your bedroom. 

So watching him now making the snowman your daughter wanted — old hat, scarf, pipe, and all — you were amused but also couldn’t be prouder. Ben had heard you that night and he had chosen to be the hero his little girl wanted him to be: her dad while also being a good man and someone she could be proud of. It didn’t erase his past but it was just another step in the right direction towards his future. The suit was still hidden away in a closet but he hadn’t pulled it out for which you were also immensely grateful. Vought International and The Seven had been annihilated years ago at the same time Homelander had been killed. Supes had scattered across the globe, now not being run by one single entity anymore. Some had world governments after them for crimes they had committed previously and were still committing to this day. Compound V as well as Temp V had now unfortunately hit the streets so random fresh Supes were turning up everywhere. The world certainly had its hands full when it came to the whole Supe thing. Maybe it was incredibly selfish of you but you were relieved when Ben chose to stay out of the fray and instead concentrate on living the life he’d chosen to live with you and focus on your family.

Your grin grew when your daughter excitedly hurried over to you. “Mama, mama! Did you see the snowman Daddy made?”

“I did, kiddo. He looks great.” You arched a brow over at the snowman though when you noticed something. “Well, just a tiny bit lopsided, but that’s okay. It gives him character.”

Ben huffed, appearing next to you. “I don’t make lopsided snowmen.” He then turned to Violet. “Your mother needs to have her eyes checked.”

“Hey,” you cried out indignantly. “Who are you telling to get their eyes checked, old man? Considering it’s a lop-sided snowman, I say you should get yours checked.”

Ben flashed his teeth in a grin. “My eyes are perfect, like everything else about me.” You couldn’t help your eye roll though in your estimation, he wasn’t too far off the mark. Never aging thanks to Compound V would do that to someone you guessed. You tried not to be too envious when you remembered back to the few gray hairs you’d managed to find coming from your scalp a few weeks back. 

Violet was giggling watching the two of you and you couldn’t help but join in her merriment. “Sure,” you teased. “So instead of Frosty the Snowman, we’ll call him Skewy the Off-Balance Snowman?”

Ben sent you a mock glare and you shrugged, smiling, making your daughter laugh again. He handed an old ratty coat to her. “Vi, why don’t you put on the finishing touches so your mom can stop being a critic and finally appreciate our hard work?” 

“What? I am appreciating it. I even appreciate that you have to tilt your head a bit to see it straight. Off-kilter is all the rage now, I get it. See? I’m appreciating it.”

Your daughter grinned and took the proffered coat before rushing back over to the snowman.

Hands suddenly on your hips whipped you around and Ben was on you before you could utter another word. He kissed you hard and you swore you could see stars when he finally pulled back, letting you catch your breath. He smirked down at you, muttering “Pain in the ass” good-humoredly, before you both caught movement out of the corner of your eye. You both glanced over in time to see your daughter leap gracefully into the air to toss the coat onto the tall snowman. Ben’s smile was proud and you watched in awe as she landed lithely back down on the ground. As you had wondered often enough when pregnant with her, your daughter had inherited some Supe DNA from her father after all. Something you and Ben both worked hard with her to keep tamped down when in the presence of other children and especially their parents. Your life was blissfully lowkey, normal (as normal as it could be with two Supes in the house), and safe — you and Ben both wanted to keep it that way and you both especially wanted to make sure your daughter’s life continued in that fashion as well. You didn’t want your daughter to be ashamed of her special abilities and Ben was able to teach her restraint, something he had to teach himself long before she was born. 

Ben watched as she used her strength to shift the snowman a little to the left so it would indeed be a little straighter. He rolled his eyes at your triumphant smirk but his smile never left as he cupped your face between his hands. “There. Happy?”

“More than you know,” you answered honestly. His smile faded slightly when he realized you meant more than the adjustment to his recent snow creation. You saw an all-too familiar internal struggle play out in his eyes that you had seen often enough over the years, especially lately. When he was making love to you; when he quietly watched you and your daughter working on her homework together; when he found you in the kitchen late at night when you couldn’t sleep and without speaking you’d turn on a slow song from his era and hold out an expectant hand to him; when you wrapped your arms around him from behind in a hug and snuck in underneath his arm as both of you observed Violet playing out in the yard with the dog she’d managed to convince you both to get — you knew what that struggle was and while it might have bothered another spouse that he never properly vocalized his feelings, you more than understood. How could you not after you knew how Ben had grown up, what he’d been taught? He’d made tons of strides over the years to undo all of that programming, but this…this was the hardest for him, and you knew why. So you didn’t push and instead willingly took what he gave you, knowing he was doing the best he could to show you how he felt instead.

You pushed yourself up on your toes and kissed him. “I love you, too,” you whispered, letting him know it was okay; you knew. You felt his thumb glide along your bottom lip as he studied you intently, and you could feel the heat radiating on the sides of your face. “I always forget how warm your hands are.”

He gave you a suggestive smirk. “You better not have forgotten how warm the rest of me is.”

“Might need a reminder,” you murmured, leaning into him.

His smirk widened. “Then you’ll get one.” He kissed you and before you could get too carried away, the sounds of your daughter giggling and calling “Daddy” had you both pulling apart. “Later,” he promised, pecking your lips one last time before looking over at Violet and the snowman whose apparel had changed to wearing her coat and hat instead. 

Ben gave her an indulgent smile. “What’d you do, Princess?” Violet giggled again and her father shook his head as he headed over to her. You watched as he picked her up, tickling her and making her squeal in laughter, and you smiled. Life really didn’t get much better than this.

You laughed yourself when Violet tried to tickle Ben back. 

Not by a long shot. 

<-->

You gave your husband a tired smile when he walked into the room.

“Did she get to school okay?” You asked.

He nodded and removed his coat, hanging it up on the empty hook on the wall.

“And you gave her the envelope I left on the table, right? The one that had her pictures and money for the yearbook?”

“Yeah,” he gruffed out, taking the empty seat next to you and ignoring the curious stares directed his way. Ben was huge and even though he hadn’t been recognized in years, his hulking stature still attracted inquisitive gazes every now and then.

“Good. Thank you for doing that.”

He took your free hand and frowned when you involuntarily shivered. 

Your smile was immediately apologetic. “I always forget how warm your hands are.” You gently gestured to your head where a cold cap sat. “This is freezing so with your hands, it felt like I stuck mine over a fire for a second.”

His frown intensified but he let your hand go. 

“No, no, it’s fine.” You grabbed at his fingers and intertwined them with yours once again. “I like warm.” You then tried to give him a flirtatious smile. “You know that.”

His responding smile was more of a grimace but he kept his hand in yours. “There anything you need?”

You noticed that once again, he was hardly making eye contact with you while you were receiving treatment. You hated it when he did that though you understood. He hated to see you like this, knowing there was nothing he could do to help you. Correction, nothing you would let him do that is.

You’d found a lump in your breast during a self-exam and you’d gotten it checked out right away. More examinations and tests later, it was confirmed: you had cancer. Thankfully, it was not the aggressive kind but your doctor wanted to go after the tumor just as if it was anyway. Your daughter was only in high school; of course, you agreed to whatever plan the doctor suggested. So now here you were, getting chemo after a successful removal of the tumor. 

Ben and Violet had been worried but you assured them that you would be fine, even if you didn’t know that to be true. Ben kept it together in front of your daughter, but once she had gone to bed, you could tell that even though he wouldn’t admit it, he was scared shitless. He knew what cancer meant like everyone else but he didn’t understand the mechanics of the treatments you would be receiving or the rates of survival depending on the ability to remove the tumor and keeping it from spreading versus the percentage rate of success of said surgery and treatments. He asked you question after question after question which you tried your best to answer while trying to keep from falling apart yourself. Eventually, he got frustrated and assured you he would get a hold of some Compound V. Though the government was still currently fighting the sale of the drug on the black market, they had to have some locked away for evidence or testing or they were just simply hoarding it. And if that didn’t work, he planned to track some down and get you a vial. Even if it was only Temp V. 

You were horrified at this suggestion. “Ben, no. I’m not taking that stuff!”

“Why? It’ll make you healthy! It’ll get rid of this fucking cancer! Why wouldn’t you take it?”

“I can think of several reasons. If you break in somewhere to steal it, you can get caught and thrown into some max security prison or CIA black op site that I’ll never be able to get to, never mind being able to find, where they’ll keep you locked down with that gas! Or if you get it off of the street or from the black market, you have no idea if it’s been tampered with or if they’ve laced it with anything else. Temp V is completely out of the question, from a legit source or not. Not to mention, we don’t even know if this would work. It might not heal me or it could even kill me instead. That’s why!”

“You don’t know that,” he insisted. 

“I don’t care. I’m not doing it, Ben.”

His eyes were darker than usual and he looked as if he was about to say something that you probably would both end up regretting. And sure enough, he did. “You’re fucking taking it and that’s it.”

“Excuse me?” You hissed. “This is my life we’re talking about. My life, my decision!”

“We are your life, goddammit!” He roared. Your eyes began to burn as you held back tears and he noticed the familiar sheen in them. When he spoke next, his tone was a bit quieter but no less firm. “So, it’s our decision. You’re taking it and that’s final.”

He had stormed out of the house after that and you had burst into tears. You knew he could hear you but he didn’t come back. You’d cried out all of the fear and anguish and despair you’d felt since receiving your diagnosis. 

It was only later that night when Ben crawled into bed, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you into his body, that he whispered an apology into your ear. You squeezed his forearm, letting him know you’d forgiven him. 

“If I can get a hold of some, will you please take it?” He begged.

You thought it over for a moment, weighed the risks heavily against the rewards that it could yield, and then shook your head. “No. It’s too risky. It could kill me, Ben. At least with the surgery and chemo, I have better odds.”

“What if I gave you some of my blood?” You heard his voice break near the end of his question and that shocked you. The entire time you’d known the man, he had never once cried. Not in front of you, at least. 

You slowly turned in his arms and while you didn’t see any tears, you saw the shimmer in his green eyes along with pure, unadulterated fear that you’d only seen rare glimpses of over the years: during your pregnancy; the birth; when Violet was a baby and he held her small body in his too big arms, afraid he might break her; when you’d gotten into that car accident on the way to Vi’s dance recital that left you with a few scrapes and bruises; the one time a new Supe in the making claimed to the media that he didn’t believe the death rumors and he was hunting Soldier Boy down in order to prove himself as the strongest Supe which ended up with Ben relocating your family to somewhere even more lowkey (you’d had to talk him out of going to find that damn kid and teaching him a lesson). But now, here it was, naked and laid out plain for you to see. You’d been right; he was scared shitless. 

You ran your fingers soothingly through his hair and he briefly turned to kiss your wrist. “We have two different blood types. It wouldn’t work.”

“I could find a scientist that’ll make it work. With all of these watered-down Supes running around, you can’t tell me there isn’t another Vogelbaum out there somewhere studying them. I could nab him and make him help us.”

You gave him a sad smile. “It doesn’t work like that. This isn’t something that can be fixed by some mad scientist or some miracle superhero-making drug.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Ben,” you pleaded. “Please…” 

He laid a hand against your face and stared into your eyes. “I don’t want to lose you.” You heard the breaks in his voice again. 

A tear slipped down your cheek and he gently wiped it away with his thumb. “One day, you’re going to. Whether it’s now or later, it’s inevitable.”

You could see how hard that hit him, even though you both had known this truth for some time. This wasn’t the first time he’d brought up the possibility of you taking Compound V in your relationship and it wasn’t the first time you’d refused. 

He wanted to keep you with him, always. You didn’t want to live forever and once Violet came along, you definitely didn’t want to outlive your daughter. And that was only if the drug was successful and didn’t outright kill you. Not to mention, even if it was successful, who was to say that it would work for you the same way it worked for Ben? Perhaps you could still easily be killed or you would still age. Perhaps your abilities would be completely different to his. He’d offered to get you some Temp V to preview what it would do, but after what you’d seen happen to Billy Butcher from taking that stuff, you refused.

Now, having cancer, as much as that terrified you, you still didn’t want to risk it. The doctors knew you wanted to see your daughter graduate high school. That was enough for you, for now.

You’d watched as Ben compulsively swallowed and pulled you up to meet him. He kissed you and you could feel the desperation, this time layered by a whole new level of it. He’d made love to you that night, the most tender in his touches and movements since the accident. He took his time with you and even though fear clung thickly to both of you, by the end, you felt loved and cherished and warm.

Such a contrast to how you were feeling now. You let out another involuntary shiver and Ben frowned over at you. By now, he would have picked you up and deposited you on his lap, wrapping you in his embrace to warm you up. But he couldn’t due to the goddamn machine and tubing you were connected to. So instead, he got up and laid another blanket over you, leaning in to murmur into your ear, “When we get home, I’ll warm you up.”

He pulled back with a wicked smirk and you gave him a grateful smile before he returned to his seat. You knew he only meant that he would hold you until you warmed up or until he had to pick up your daughter. You were much too tired for anything else, especially after each treatment, something you hated but it couldn’t be helped. You missed being intimate with him, you missed having the energy to do your usual flurry of picking up after your family around the house, you missed being the one to take Violet to school every morning — you missed it all. You lived your life as normally as possible but the tiredness, the lack of energy, the sickness, the effects this drug had on your system…sometimes it was beyond frustrating and that was putting it nicely. But Ben and Vi had been there through it all, ready to help and step in wherever needed. Violet did her chores like always but she also helped her dad whenever he would allow her to. And Ben…well, he had really stepped up. There were zero complaints that men shouldn’t be doing the laundry or the cooking (something that had been a leftover contention point from the early days of your relationship). He did his best to help Vi with her schoolwork if she had any questions and you were napping. He did the picking up around the house now and he took care of you when you got sick, his nose no longer scrunching up at the smell of vomit (something you had noticed when you had morning sickness and he sat with you, rubbing your back; he later explained to you just how sharp his sense of smell was). He did everything you asked him to and even things you didn’t. He had been a pillar of strength and support that you hadn’t even known you’d needed in the beginning.  

When he took your hand again, you carefully lifted his and kissed the back of it. “I love you,” you whispered, smiling as you nuzzled his warm skin.

He watched you, a familiar struggle taking place inside of him as a tell-tale shimmer started in his eyes that he didn’t want you to see. By the time you opened yours and looked over at him, the shimmer was gone and a tender smile was in place. “Back at you, dollface.” He leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, staying like that a bit longer than he usually would have. You thought he was telling you what he still couldn’t put into words and he was. But he was also doing his best to warm you up. He’d felt the cold when you’d kissed his hand and rubbed your lips against it. Cold wasn’t something he felt easily so if he felt it, then he knew just how cold you really were. He hated these treatments, how sick they made you, how cold those damn caps made you (at this point, he didn’t care if you lost your hair, it wouldn’t change how he felt about you and he just wanted you warm and alive), he hated that there wasn’t anything he could to make you better — he hated it all. He meant what he’d said to you, when he got you home, he was going to strip you both down and hold you under the thickest, biggest blanket he could find in your house until it was time to pick up Vi from soccer practice. Warming you up, now that was something he could do. Which is exactly why he made sure to keep his lips connected to yours until the ice cold feeling disappeared and some color came back into them. He stared into your eyes, making you a silent promise that he would always chase the cold away and he would keep you here with him, warm, for as long as he could.

You smiled and leaned in to kiss him again, not caring in the least that you might have an audience with other patients and their family members or nurses. You loved Ben with everything you had; you didn’t care who knew it or even saw it.

<-->

“Oh, come on!”

You could hear Ben’s chuckle from the other room and you smiled.

“You cheated!”

“No, I didn’t,” Ben insisted, sounding offended.

“Yes, you did! Dad, admit it!”

“Oh and you didn’t? Those bombs came out of nowhere, right?”

You heard your daughter groan. “It’s battle mode, Dad. You’re supposed to battle it out!”

“We did and I won.” You could practically see the triumphant smile on your husband’s face.

“Yeah, by cheating. What do you think, Rose?”

You could hear the poor girl practically stuttering out her response, trying not to offend either party. “Uh, I think it was…pretty fair…”

“What?” Violet yelled. “You call what he did fair?”

“Y-Yes?”

Ben let out another chuckle. “I knew I liked you, kid.”

You shook your head, smiling to yourself. The two most competitive members of your family had decided to play a video game while you were cooking to help pass the time. Vi had offered to help but you shooed her away since she had brought a friend home with her for the holiday. Ben had looked over at you expectantly, wondering what you would ask him to do, but you’d simply put a beer in his hand and sent him off to entertain the girls. He’d tried to hide his relief as he made his escape but you saw right through him. Thankfully, he didn’t see your own relief. You loved that Ben would do whatever you asked of him when it came to the kitchen, but sometimes he had his own way of doing things (from the time you’d been sick) and it clashed with yours. So, for a meal this large, as much as you loved him, you’d prefer for him to be out of the way. While it was a lot of work, your time to yourself in here was peaceful and you were amused at the bickering you overheard between Ben and Vi. Video games, board games, puzzles — it didn’t matter. If they were involved, there was bound to be claims of cheating by one of them or both, and massive competitive drives. You’d learned long ago to let them battle it out while you would be happy to be in 3rd place in Mario Kart or own St. Charles Place and maybe a railroad during a round of Monopoly. Most of all, though, you loved spending time with your two favorite people in the world, whether they were bickering over a game or competing against each other for a pixelated trophy on the television screen.

You heard voices start to rise slightly, Violet’s in particular. Someone else might have been nervous, especially for the young girl who was your guest, considering two Supes were locking horns, but you weren’t worried. Vi was now in college and thankfully, you’d been in remission for a couple of years. If your family had managed to survive that, you knew they’d overcome any argument over something as silly as who won a race between a plumber and a mushroom man. 

But just in case, you called out, “Guys, remember it’s just a game, please. We have a guest.” 

Sure enough, Violet lowered her voice but you could still hear her accusing her father who scoffed his denials. You rolled your eyes in amusement. 

It wasn’t long before you felt strong arms wrap around you from behind, and lips pressed against your neck. “And the victor returns,” you murmured, smiling and leaning back into him. 

“Mm-hmm,” Ben hummed against your skin. “He wants his spoils.” You felt him attempting to lift the hem of your dress and you slapped his hands away.

“Ben,” you hissed. “Not right now with our daughter and her friend in the next room.”

He didn’t let you deter him; he was determined. “Then let’s go upstairs while this bird cooks. The kids can entertain themselves for a few minutes.”

“A few minutes?” You teased. “You mean like this morning?”

Ben had sweet talked you into sneaking out to the garage after you set everything up and put the turkey in the oven. He’d had you up against the hood of your car, his hand covering your mouth as he went to town on you, both of you in a hurry because he’d heard your daughter starting to wake up on the floor above you. 

Instead of being insulted or rolling his eyes and glaring over at you, a dirty smirk settled onto his face. “Mmm, that was hot. You were hot. So hot I want to lift this dress up and do that thing with my—”

A loud throat clearing coming from the other room had you both straightening up. Right. Your daughter shared super senses with her father. Whoops. “Uh, Mom? Is dinner ready yet?”

“Uh.” You quietly cleared your throat yourself as you moved away from Ben, making him frown. “Not for another two hours or so.” You had just checked the turkey before you’d been interrupted. 

“Okay, well, Rose and I are going to go walk outside for a bit. We’ll be back.”

“Okay, sweetheart. Be careful and make sure to take your coats. It’s cold out,” you warned.

Violet laughed. “Yes, Mom.”

She must have said something too quiet for you to hear because Ben suddenly went rigid. “Listen to your mother,” he added for good measure.

Another laugh. “Sure, Dad.”

You continued prepping dinner and once you heard the front door shut, Ben was on you. “Ben,” you laughed. “I don’t have time!”

He picked you up and moved you to the one area of counter space that wasn’t covered. “Yeah, you do. There’s always time for a quickie.”

“A quickie? Another one of Ben’s infamous life rules?”

He lifted the skirt of your dress over your thighs and quickly worked your underwear down your legs. “Another one of my infamous life rules with you.” You and Ben were used to having the house to yourselves so anywhere, anytime had become a sort of routine you two had. You missed Violet tremendously but you also had time to physically reconnect with your husband.

Almost as if he heard the direction your thoughts were going in, he framed your face with his hands. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured. 

You gave him a grateful smile. The truth was, while you were grateful to be in remission and for more time with your family, you had worried about the toll chemo had taken on your body as well as your sex drive. The doctor assured you that while it would take time, there was a good chance you would start to feel normal again. Ben had been understanding but you had been frustrated. However, the doctor was right; it took a while but you started to feel back to normal, libido included. 

Luckily, you hadn’t lost a lot of your hair, the cold caps having helped, and once the treatments were over, whatever was gone did indeed grow back. Unfortunately, a lot of gray hair also came with it. You’d wanted to dye it back to your original color but Ben urged you not to. “You look fucking sexy as hell with it,” he’d murmured before you watched him nibble on your ear in the bathroom mirror. You knew his preference for older women, something you knew before you’d even gotten together, walking into the bar you’d found him in and seeing him making out with a grandma one time. So you knew your aging wasn’t an issue; he’d told you often enough that he didn’t care how old you got, he only wanted you. That was why he had wanted you to take Compound V, far before your diagnosis, because he wanted to be with you forever, or as long as forever would be given your actual life span and his. But you were still struggling with all of the changes your body had gone through in the last couple of years and you’d broken down into sobs, letting your face fall into your hands. He’d held you and whispered reassurances into your ear that everything was going to be okay. 

And thankfully, he had been right. It had all turned out to be okay. You’d gotten to see Violet graduate, you’d gotten to go on campus tours with her as she decided on a college, you got to drive up with her and Ben to move her into her dorm room, you’d gotten to spend more time with your husband who loved you deeply — you’d gotten more time period.

And here you were, able to cook a full Thanksgiving dinner for your family on your own, and all three of you were thriving. Most people would be stating what they were thankful for on this day but you — the gratitude you felt overwhelmed you and it was something that couldn’t be put into words. You had a beautiful life, a wonderful life, a daughter just as beautiful and wonderful, and you were thankful for the man who had given it to you. Who had laid down his shield (and everything that came with it) and chosen to make this life with you.

You stared into his green eyes, seeing a certain amount of reverence mixed with affection watching you back. You felt his skin warm against yours, reminding you of all of the days and nights he spent trying to keep you warm during and after your treatments, and you smiled. “Your hands are so warm,” you whispered the familiar words. “I always forget how warm they are.”

And as expected, he grinned and responded with, “Not sure how, dollface. I never take them off of you.” He ran a thumb tenderly along your bottom lip. “And I never will.”

He kissed you then and you couldn’t help the tear that escaped and rolled down your cheek. The quickie ended up being not so quick. The turkey was a little drier than you liked but your family ate it all the same while Rose politely complimented you. Violet gave you a nod, smiling, missing her father unapologetically smirking over at you while shoveling forkfuls into his mouth. You gave him a look when your daughter glanced back down to her plate and he chortled before digging in again. You gazed around the table, smiling, content as could be. Gratitude. Thankful. Those were the two words that repeated themselves over and over in your head as you watched your family eat the food you’d cooked for them, even when Violet insisted that Ben had still cheated in Mario Kart, her father told her to let it go, and both agreed to a rematch right after dinner. 

This is what you’d wanted back when you gave Ben your ultimatum, but never in a million years did you think you’d actually get to have it. Thankful indeed.     

<-->

Being awash in these memories, you failed to notice that a tear was making its way down Ben’s cheek until it fell near your hairline when he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. You didn’t really feel anything that wasn’t pain or cold, except for him. Even his tears were warm. So warm.

“Not sure how, baby,” he answered you, smiling, his eyes wet. “I always have them on you.”

You couldn’t help but smile in return at your familiar exchange. That smile fell, though, when you heard what he said next.

“I’m gonna get him. I promise you that.”

You could see the faint edges of Soldier Boy peeking through as you saw your husband’s green eyes harden in an all-too familiar fashion. You slowly shook your head, even that tiny movement causing you pain. “I don’t want that. I want you and Vi to be safe.”

He looked as if he wanted to argue but thought better of it. Instead, his eyes softened once more and he gave you a nod. “Okay, baby.”

You and Ben had been walking through town, buying last minute Christmas presents. Ben wanted to order them online and avoid the crowds, but you wanted to take a walk, breathing in the fresh air and be imbued with the Christmas spirit that permeated the town. Ben had begrudgingly indulged you and you enjoyed yourself as you bought gifts for Violet, her fiancee, and you even managed to sneak one for Ben when you’d sent him to ask the guy manning the stand in the outdoor market for a price on an item. The woman from the stand next door had just bagged your gift when you noticed a young man walking through the market, commanding everyone’s attention. He had a suit on with a cape so it was obvious he was a Supe and he was looking for something or someone. His eyes flickered in Ben’s direction, who had his back to him, and a dangerous smile formed on his face. Within seconds, you recognized him. He was the Supe you had seen on TV a few years back, though he’d been wearing a different suit then and he wasn’t nearly as bulked up as he was now. He was the one who had been saying he would hunt Soldier Boy down to kill him. You quickly glanced back at Ben who was completely unaware, involved in the discussion he was having with the older man. You saw the Supe’s eyes begin to glow and you knew what would happen before it did. 

You dropped everything in your hands and ran as fast as you could towards Ben, yelling his name. He glanced up at you, his brows furrowed, and he tensed seeing your expression. It was mere moments that passed before you were in front of him and you felt a lava-hot feeling erupting from your insides, making you scream. 

You fell to the ground and you watched as Ben went to catch you but was forced to let you fall when he looked up to see more lasers coming his way. He moved out of the way just in time. As you lay, unable to move, hearing some of the sounds of battle all around you and people screaming and stampeding out of the market while your ears were still ringing, you prayed to whoever was listening that your husband won and that he and your daughter would be safe. 

It wasn’t until you heard something that sounded like a jet taking off into the sky and saw Ben’s boots come to a stop in front of you that you realized he had survived. You nearly cried at the sight of those worn work boots that you kept urging him to replace. He managed to roll you over though you cried out in pain as he did and he settled you onto his lap, his eyes wide as he took in your injuries. Not only could you feel how bad it was, but you could also see it on his face. It was a miracle you were somehow still alive, able to talk even, but you didn’t have long. You didn’t need to be a doctor to know that the rapidly-spreading cold wasn’t a good thing. Your hands and arms were practically numb at this point. And you thought cancer would be the one you’d have to worry about showing up.

“Make sure you take care of Vi. She’s going to need you,” you urged him.

He gave you another nod. “You know I will.”

“And don’t let that asshole find her.”

His jaw tightened and his eyes hardened again. “He won’t.” You knew what that meant but not having much energy left, you could only hope that when he thought back to this moment, he remembered what you had told him you wanted. 

It worried you a little when he picked up your hand and kissed your palm that not only could you not feel it, but your hand looked the palest you’d ever seen it, even during chemo. 

More tears rolled down your cheeks but you made sure to look up at him. You had no idea how much time you had left but you needed to tell him, you needed him to know. “Tell Vi that I love her and I’m so proud of her.” And you were. Inspired by what had happened to you years back, she became a doctor, specifically an oncologist. She was determined to find a cure and in the meantime, help people who had gotten some of the worst news of their lives. “And, Ben.. Thank you for our life together. Thank you for our daughter. Thank you for everything.”

You could see his eyes beginning to glisten once more and he compulsively swallowed. “I should be thanking you for that.”

“You made the decision to walk away. If you hadn’t…”

“It was an easy decision.”

You tried to give him a smile that probably came out more of a grimace. “No, it wasn’t. But I’m thankful you made it.”

He leaned down to press another kiss to your forehead before staring into your eyes. “I’m thankful for you.”

You tried to smile wider but instead a cough erupted out of you and you could feel something wet on your lip. Ben gently swiped his thumb across it, moving it out of your sight, and a slight panic set in when you realized you could barely feel the action. “Ben,” you croaked. “I’m so cold.” You could barely feel the pain anymore and it felt as if someone had turned on an A/C inside you at full blast and the icy air was making its way up to your head. 

Ben attempted to give you a familiar smile. “Then I’ll warm you up, doll.” You heard the breaks in his voice but when he leaned down to kiss you, you let him, taking comfort in the familiar show of affection. You breathed through your nose and you relaxed, feeling the last bit of warmth that was infused into your lips.

Ben stayed there long after you took your last breath, long after you went limp. He knew you were gone but a small irrational part of him told himself that if he just kept trying to chase the cold away for you, he might somehow succeed. But ultimately, as he knew it wouldn’t, it didn’t work. He lifted his head and stared down at you, silently willing you to open your eyes. When you didn’t, more tears fell down his bearded cheeks and a sob tore out of his throat that he had no idea was there waiting to escape. “Baby,” he choked out, shaking you as gently as he could, still mindful of your wounds. But still, nothing. Then he said the words he’d always struggled to give voice to, thinking if nothing else would bring you back, this might. “I love you,” he let out in a broken whisper against your lips. When that didn’t work either, he knew that was it and subsequently broke down, rocking you tenderly in his arms as he buried his face in your neck while his shoulders shook. For the first time ever since becoming a Supe, Soldier Boy cried and didn’t care who saw it or knew about it. He ignored the cries of people looking for their loved ones, he ignored the police cars showing up and the sirens of the fire trucks on their way, he ignored people clamoring around the site asking what happened or trying to help others — he ignored them all. All he focused on was you. You had knowingly put yourself in front of those lasers to save him. …And now you were gone.

[thebiggerbear]

Beau Arlen x Reader - Prompt Response - "I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that."

Summary: He put you with Hoyt and Tonya. For the day. What the hell had he been thinking?

A/N: Prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting (#941). I couldn't resist. I love Beau so much.

Thank you to my beta Em for her services. You rock, girl!

Pairing: Beau Arlen x Female!Reader; Beau Arlen x Female!DeputySheriff!Reader

Warnings: sex (smut-light); implied sex; mention of violence; mention of injury

Word Count: 2486

Beau Taglist: @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that."

Soldier Boy version | Dean version | Jenny version | Jason version | Tom version | CJ version | Rachel version | Anael version | SDV Leah version | Alec version

<-->

You made your way past everyone in the station, intent on one office in particular.

“Oh, hey, Y/N,” Poppernak greeted you with a grin. His smile slowly faded as he took in your expression. “Everything okay?”

“Just dandy,” you spat, surging past him. His eyes widened and he quickly got out of your way. If you were pissed and heading where it looked like you were heading, then he knew the best thing to do was to stay out of your way and possibly duck for cover. He hoped that when all was said and done that the office was still standing… as well as its sheriff.

You stormed into Beau’s office and slammed the door behind you. The man in question, who was on the phone, frowned and turned to see you standing in place, fuming. You were pretty sure he could see steam coming out of your ears from the bugging of his eyes and his hurry to get off the call he was on.

“Gotta run, Jas. Get back to me as soon as you have something. Thanks.” He quickly hung up the phone.

“Who’s Jas?” You seethed as he studied you, most likely determining how to respond.

Apparently choosing to try to butter you up, he gave you a bright smile. “Jas — Jasmine from Tech. You know that, honey, you’ve met her.”

You snorted and slowly approached his desk. “Don’t you honey me, Arlen.”

“Why?” He chuckled nervously, a response he had when he was anxious or becoming so. If you were using his last name, you were definitely pissed. “What’s wrong, darlin’?” Beau saw your eyes flash and he knew he had said the wrong thing. Oh boy.

“What’s wrong?” You asked in disbelief. “What’s wrong?!”

He knew better than to say anything else, especially since you were repeating his words in a rhetorical-yet-sarcastic manner. Besides, he knew you were going to tell him whether he wanted to hear it or not.

“What’s wrong is you sent me out with Hoyt all day.”

Beau relaxed a little, thinking maybe it had been something worse: a forgotten birthday, or maybe he was supposed to have done something you asked him to do but he didn’t — that kind of thing. “I did, but what’s wrong with that? You two have been getting along better these days and you work great together.” Your eyes narrowed and Beau realized he was in for a world of shit. He had tried to be complimentary and positive, but apparently that was the wrong way to go.

“What’s wrong is that you sent me out with her for the day. With Tonya.”

Beau briefly closed his eyes. He should have known this would come back to bite him in the ass. The truth was he had been caught off guard himself and had to quickly scramble to make it work. 

Seeing him hang his head, you hissed, “Yeah, exactly.”

Tonya and Donno, for some reason, had not moved on after everything that happened with Paige and the 15 million. All of you knew that the two had most likely gotten what they sought after; why they remained in town instead of taking off to some tropical paradise that catered to those wishing to remain anonymous was a mystery. You happened to think Tonya had something else up her sleeve, but like Beau had said: unless there was evidence of some kind of crime happening, there was nothing that could be done. You also thought that Beau and Hoyt were both purposely looking in other directions when it came to Tonya and Donno because the latter two had helped them in dire situations involving their family members. You didn’t really care about Tonya or Donno, but from what your friends had told you, both had put the group through the wringer — and often, at that. You had no desire to see that happen again so you’d rather see them skip town altogether instead of sticking around to further scheme things that could end up getting your friends hurt in some way.

Unfortunately, Tonya had risen in the ranks of realty; she was now one of Helena’s most sought after real estate agents, so much so that she had become friendly with the mayor and even began rubbing shoulders with some county officials. For some strange reason, out of the blue, Tonya decided she wanted to do a ridealong with law enforcement — your department specifically, today of all days. Beau, in a spur of the moment, decided to spare Pops and the rest of his department as well as himself, so naturally, you got saddled with that duty as did Hoyt. You knew Hoyt and Tonya didn’t get along, yet you had no idea just how much the two women hated one another. You basically spent the whole day keeping Hoyt from arresting the woman on some trumped up charge, keeping Hoyt from her own would-be assault charge, and endured hours upon hours of bickering. Tonya constantly — and loudly — questioned the two of you as you did your job, in front of perps, bystanders, and witnesses alike. She even told a suspect you were handcuffing — with a wink — that she knew a good lawyer who also happened to specialize in police brutality. The man decided to go all Mike Tyson and had knocked Hoyt down with a punch and tried to take a swing at you, forcing you to outmaneuver him and slam him onto the hood of your car to swiftly get his arms behind his back and regain control of the situation. But according to her, you were using brutality with him. Sure. You may have snapped out that she should get her ass back in the car before she’d join him, causing a smug smirk to form on the woman’s face. “I’ll get you that number,” she told the man, and then slinked back into the car. You grit your teeth and handed the suspect over to a deputy, going to check on Hoyt who was back on her feet, prodding at a bloody cut on her lip.  

Tonya had been a grade-A pain in the ass all day and she seemed to get off on irking both of you, Hoyt especially. And not once did Beau ever give you a heads-up on just what you would be facing after willfully sacrificing you and throwing you into the mess without a second of hesitation. For someone who used to be your partner back in the day, he sure hadn’t acted like one today. How could you not be pissed? 

Hoyt wasn’t happy with Beau either, but she was currently getting looked at by a doctor due to your insistence. Cassie had met you both at a walk-in clinic and she was waiting to drive Hoyt back once the blonde got the all-clear. Tonya had scampered off the minute you put your car in park, chirping how much she enjoyed today and thanking you for showing her how Lewis & Clark County’s finest did for their county day to day. Before you could retort, she was gone and you knew she definitely had something in the works that was not going to bode well for any of you in the long run. However, at that moment, you were so pissed you could barely see straight and you only had one destination in mind: Beau’s office. So here you were, infuriated and ready to send heads rolling. How could he do that? To you of all people? 

Beau sighed and got to his feet, rounding his desk to sit on the edge. “Y/N, I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting that today and when she requested Hoyt… I could’ve sent Pop, but I didn’t think he’d be able to shut any crap down as quickly as you would. That’s why I sent you with them. But, I should’ve been the one to go, not you, and I’m sorry.”

“Yes, you should’ve been,” you hissed, crossing your arms.

He nodded and, after a moment, he reached out a hand.

You snorted in disbelief. “Really?”

Beau didn’t say anything, only moved his hand in a come hither motion, holding it out for you to take.

You let out an angry sigh and rolled your eyes, but moved forward to place your hand in his nonetheless. He pulled you to him, framed your face with his hands, and softly kissed you. You refused to kiss him back but ultimately, like always, you lost the battle and gave in, gently grasping one of his wrists as you did. “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered to your lips.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again.”

“I promise.” He kissed you once more and you began to relax and melt into him, even going so far as to wrap your arms around his neck and slot your mouth against his more insistently. He released your face and circled his arms around your waist, picking you up so he could place you on his lap, your knees bracketing his hips as you straddled him. You could feel the tell-tale bulge pressing against you. You could definitely use some stress relief after the day you had, yet still —

“I’m still mad at you,” you panted harshly as he pressed kisses down your jaw line, his hands roaming insistently on your lower back. You weren’t surprised when a moment later they traveled further south and squeezed while he moved you back and forth over his growing arousal.

“As you should be,” he murmured, trailing his lips down your neck. “Matter of fact, I think you should show me how mad. Right here, right now.” Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as he began to suck on that spot right below your ear, the spot he knew drove you crazy. 

“I hate you,” you moaned, beginning to grind against him more insistently.

“You have a weird way of showing that, darlin’,” he chuckled, one hand on your hip now to help your movements. He bit his lip watching you grind on him and he let out a throaty groan. “Fuck, I ever tell you how much I love it when you get all riled up like this and you need to get it out of your system? Because I do. Hell, maybe I oughta do something that pisses you off every so often so you can— ” 

“Shut up,” you growled and covered his mouth with yours, plunging your tongue deep inside to taste him and effectively shut him up. You were practically riding him on his desk and he was doing everything he could to hold onto you while keeping upright. At one point, you got so turned on, you broke away and began unbuckling his belt, desperate to get inside his jeans. 

“Door’s not locked,” he panted out though he didn’t move to stop you. 

“Don’t care.” Normally, you would have cared, but the infuriating bastard was right: you had all the pent up anger and frustration from today coursing through your system. You needed to get it out, now. You yanked his belt through his belt loops and tossed it to the floor. “And just so we’re clear,” you unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, reaching inside and grabbing him, making him hiss when you gave him a couple of pumps with your hand. “We are not done talking about this.” You got to your feet and quickly whipped off your jacket and shirt, leaving you in only your lacy bra. You stripped down and then gently pulled him out of his jeans. You climbed back up and stared down into those fierce green eyes that were currently blown wide with lust. Despite mentioning it, he didn’t seem too bothered by the unlocked door either. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you hoped Poppernak and Madge didn’t walk in on something they couldn’t unsee because you highly doubted either of you would stop. You were both too worked up, especially you, and you were the one in control. Nothing short of a natural disaster or act of God would keep you from working the tension out of your body. Your phone buzzed on the floor, most likely a text from Cassie to let you know she was bringing Hoyt back to the station. Besides, you had a feeling that Pops witnessing your fury earlier and all of them out there hearing the never before slammed door, they most likely knew they should probably knock first before entering the Sheriff’s office. 

“Now, we have exactly twenty-five minutes, thirty if we’re lucky, before Hoyt gets here to rip you a new one herself. Think you can manage to make it up to me and have me all relaxed by then, cowboy?” You challenged.

His answer was to line himself up with you and push into you, making you gasp as his other hand gently pulled your hip down so you would sink fully onto him. You both groaned at the feeling and he gave you his own challenging smirk. “I think you better start moving,” he growled. “Because if she’s going to kill me, I intend to die a happy man. Which means I’m going to be buried deep in you, sweetheart, with you making a mess all over me for the fourth time.”

“Four? That’s super ambitious,” you teased. You began to move and pressed your lips together, balancing your hands on his clothed chest. “Don’t worry, baby. I won’t let her kill you. I love this way too much… And you.”

The fire in his eyes dimmed slightly and he suddenly shot up, making you adjust a little to stay on him, and he cupped your chin. “I love you, too, and darlin’...I am sorry.” You knew he was, you could hear it in his voice and see it deep in his green gaze. You gave him a soft nod and a tender smile, pecking his lips — one final sweet moment —before you pushed him back down onto the now cleared desk and resumed your position once more. He let out a chuckle at the devious smirk plastered on your lips.

“You will be,” you promised in a tease. You then went about working your frustrations out, Beau keeping to his prediction of getting you to a point that you were very relaxed (and mostly dressed albeit in need of a serious shower) by the time Hoyt stormed into his office. And just as you had promised, you made sure he survived Hurricane Hoyt and you even let him drive you home, his hand on your thigh most of the ride. You were pretty confident that he wouldn’t be making the mistake of throwing you to the wolves again anytime soon but you ended up enticing him to pull over into a discreet area to serve up a reminder once more just in case.

[thebiggerbear]

CJ Braxton x Reader - Prompt Response - "I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that."

Summary: You had only meant to call once, remaining anonymous while feeling out the whole helpline thing for yourself. Now, you talk to CJ every Friday night around the same time. When you don't call one Friday, CJ is worried and comes looking for you which presents its own host of problems.

Pairing: CJ Braxton x Female!Reader; CJ Braxton x College Student!Female!Reader

A/N: Prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting (#941). I initially wasn't going to write anything for CJ but this idea popped into my head for this prompt and I just had to write it. And I absolutely fell in love with the dynamic between CJ and the reader (and had so much fun with this). Please forgive any timeline tomfoolery or anything time wise that makes you go "huh?"; I was trying to make this work throughout the season from CJ's entry into the show (and his conversation with Jen about the helpline) to the end.

I wasn't much of a Dawson's Creek person back in the day (I still haven't seen seasons 2-5), so I hope this came out alright. I tried to keep it as 2000-ish as possible. I remember back in the day not everyone had a cell phone like Dawson, Audrey, and Pacey (though a lot of people were getting them moving into the beginning of the decade) so that rule kind of applied here so to speak.

This is meant to take place during s6 before Jen joins The Stand.

Warnings: implied sex; panic attacks; implied anxiety

Word Count: 15k+

CJ Taglist: @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that."

Soldier Boy version | Beau version | Dean version | Jenny version | Jason version | Tom version | Rachel version | Anael version | Alec version | SDV Leah version

<-->

You glanced at the clock, seeing it was 6:59. One more minute and you’d pick up the phone as you did every Friday night and make the call you always did. Your nerves thrummed in anticipation as you stared down the clock, willing the numbers to turn.

Eventually, you got your wish and as soon as the 7 appeared on the clock face you picked up the phone, dialing the number you now knew by heart. After a few rings, the call finally connected. 

“Hello, Helpline. This is CJ.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the sound of his voice. “Hey.”

“There she is.” You could hear his own smile in his tone as he recognized you. “How are you, Jo?”

You winced at the fake name you had given him. At the time, you had quickly scrambled and chose the first name that came to mind. Granted, Joey Potter was in the same school as you so you weren’t too worried about him finding out about either of you seeing as he was from Boston Bay. But as you had talked with him more and more, you really wished you hadn’t given him any name but your own. Even if you were beyond terrified; you felt bad for lying to him.

Why should it matter, right? He was a volunteer counselor for a teen helpline at another college. Why would you care what this one person thought out of you?

Well, unbeknownst to him, you had seen him once and you knew who he was. Thanks to Joey and Audrey’s friendship with Jen, you had come to hear quite a bit about the cute tall guy whose voice made your heart rate speed up way too fast. Jen had even invited him out to a house party and that was when you saw him for the first time. Your nerves got to you and you bounced before one of your friends could make an introduction. Partly because you were afraid he would recognize you from your voice and immediately put a face to the name and possibly be disappointed or worse: he’d know you lied to him. So you avoided him at all costs — well, in person.

It wasn’t like you had planned for this to happen, where you would call a helpline weekly just to speak to a certain boy. That’s not how this started at all.

When you got to Worthington, you were homesick, overwhelmed, and overall terrified. While you eventually eased into the college student lifestyle and Boston was now home, you never really got past the overwhelmed feeling, and terrified had dialed down to being anxious all the time: anxious that you would mess up, anxious that you would fail, anxious that your future wouldn’t turn out the way you planned — all of it. There were days you felt like you were just scraping by, barely making a passing grade (though your final grade usually proved you wrong), and you felt like you were some sort of imposter who was soon to be found out and didn’t really belong. Meeting Joey and her roommate, Audrey Liddell, who lived down the hall from you, helped some, and their introducing you to their group of friends helped even more. But there were still times that you just felt…tightly wound and about to snap. As if you had too many balls in the air and you were about to trip, and all the balls would fall to the ground.

So when Jen mentioned to the group about some guy wanting her to join a teen helpline for the college, you quietly paid attention. She laughed it off — his approach, not the helpline — and she didn’t think she would be right for it so that was that. While everyone else began to talk and laugh about another topic, the wheels in your head slowly started to turn inside your head. A helpline where you could remain anonymous and talk to someone who would listen and could possibly even help. You knew your school most likely had one of those but you wouldn’t even dream of risking it. But a helpline elsewhere where you could talk to someone who maybe understood how you were feeling most of the time, maybe experienced similar things, and you were able to stay anonymous? That you could look into.

After much back and forth in your mind over it, you took the leap and made the call one Friday night after a particularly rough week. You really didn’t think anyone would pick up, it was close to 7:00 and most college kids were either out or getting ready to go out…right?

Before you could answer your own question to yourself, the line connected.

“Hello, Helpline. This is CJ.”

You did what any other person would do; you promptly hung up. You stared at your phone in terror. Someone had picked up. A guy. Just when you were convincing yourself that this was stupid and you needed to take a chill pill and deal.

You argued with yourself in your head for about another minute, hemming and hawing over it all. Wasn’t the whole point of you calling to try to do something about how you’d been feeling? You supposed you could always see a therapist here in town but that could be costly, even with insurance. You also had no desire to tell your parents because they would respond the same way they did the last time you tried to allude to how overwhelmed you were when you had returned home for the summer.

“You should be grateful you got into such a great school, Y/N. Most people would kill to be in your position, going after their degree. You don’t see your classmates moping about, do you? Just because they have classes and homework,” your mother had made sure to prick you with that pin of guilt. “Make the best of it.”

“You know what I think? I think you need to get yourself some friends and then you’ll stop focusing on this so much. If you have nothing to fill your time, of course your mind is going to obsess over what you’re viewing as negative. Try to join a club or a social group. They have keggers all the time. I remember back when I was in college. It was party city every weekend. Maybe let loose a little one of these Saturday nights and things will start to get better. And who knows? Maybe you’ll even make some friends.”

“Thanks, Dad,” you mumbled, tossing your overeasy egg onto its side with your fork, your eyes trained on your plate. You knew he was just trying to help — they both were — but their attitude seemed to imply that you could simply hit an off switch somewhere and you’d stop feeling so overwhelmed. If only.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried to take their advice. You had gone to some frat party and it had been one of the worst experiences of your life. You weren’t a big drinker and you weren’t really a party person in general. You didn’t really recognize anyone from your classes or your dorm and the music was so loud, it seemed like a ridiculous notion to try to approach someone and start a conversation. Not something you were very good at anyway. You had no idea how to play the drinking games you saw, other than what you’d seen on TV, and you didn’t want to do something to mess up anyone’s scores if you didn’t do it right. Then some hulk of a guy accidentally knocked into you, deluging you in beer, and he was so drunk, he didn’t even apologize, just kept on going. After about an hour (and the unintended beer bath), you decided to call it quits.  

That night, you had gone back to your dorm room which was blissfully empty, taken a hot shower, and then sobbed into your pillow. So much so that when a drunken Audrey accidentally stumbled into your room, she saw your tear-stained face when your head snapped up and immediately asked what was wrong and why you were crying in her room of all things. Despite the back and forth over whose room it actually was and her drunken state along with the slurring of her words, you two actually kind of hit it off. Before long she had you laughing, something you felt like you hadn’t done in some time. She passed out in your roommate’s bed, much to your roommate’s chagrin, but when Audrey’s boyfriend and roommate came to get her the next morning, you figured that had been it. Your one social interaction with someone who didn’t look at you as an unwanted intruder every single day (like your roommate) or like you were some loner weirdo (like most of your classmates). You knew that Audrey would probably either ignore you the next time she ran into you or she wouldn’t remember you at all. 

Boy, had you been wrong. The day after her hangover, she had been knocking on your door, smiling and telling you that you were going out with her for the night. Just like that. She introduced you to her roommate, Joey, and their group of friends. You had been inducted into their group of friends, just like that.

Eventually, Jen mentioned the helpline that one night and now here you were, staring at the phone as if it was about to come to life and do a dance or something. You waited a few more minutes, deciding you’d try again and hopefully get someone else. There couldn’t be only one person answering phones at a helpline, could there? That would make for some backed up phone traffic and not a good look for a helpline at all. Maybe you’d be lucky and the guy would have already had another caller he was speaking to so another counselor would have to pick up.

When the clock turned to 7:11, you slowly picked up the phone, took a deep breath, and dialed the number again. You began to jiggle your leg as you waited for the line to connect.

“Hello, Helpline. This is CJ.”

Oh crap. You froze.

“Hello?”

What did you do? You wanted to hang the phone up again but you were unable to. 

“Hello?” He asked again.

No. You were going to be a mature adult about this and answer him. Just as soon as you could breathe. You covered the mouthpiece with your hand and exhaled a breath.

“Look, if you’re in trouble or can’t talk, just hit a button. Any button will work.” A minute passed while you were trying to breathe, getting ready to talk. “If you don’t have a crisis and you’re not calling to speak to someone here, then I think you should hang up and let other people who need us call in. No use in tying up the phone lines.”

Another minute passed. You really were trying your hardest to get words out but your chest was tight and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. Your heart was racing yet you were frozen. This happened sometimes but usually you were by yourself, not with someone waiting for you to speak on the other end of the phone line. It also happened a couple of times while you were out with your friends, but usually you hid out in a bathroom stall until it passed and then you left to go back to your dorm with the excuse of a test the next day or a project due, whatever you could come up with on the fly. You didn’t understand why it was happening to you right now, though.

“Alright, I’m going to hang up now.”

You smashed a key on your phone so fast that you heard a loud annoying sound in your ear. Immediately, the guy’s tone changed. 

“Okay, I’m here. If you’re in trouble, hit the key again. If you’re not but can’t talk at the moment, don’t hit it.”

You didn’t hit any more keys and gasped for air that just wasn’t coming.

“Good. I’m glad you’re okay. Is someone in the room with you and that’s why you can’t talk? If so, hit the key again.” 

You moved over to your bed and laid down. That was the fastest way to get your body to relax when you had the option you’d found out.

“Okay, so you’re alone but you can’t talk but you’re not in trouble. Can you just try to say one word or make a sound so I know you’re really okay?” 

You removed your hand from the mouthpiece. “T-Trying,” you rasped out. Holy crap, this was a bad episode you were having. You were completely mortified. Perhaps you really should hang up. You were worried, though, that now he might notify someone or think you really were prank calling the helpline. Either way, you were bound to get in trouble and even more embarrassed, and that just made your chest tighter.

“Okay. That’s good. I’ll take that. Do you have asthma or something similar?” 

Great. That’s how bad you’d sounded; he thought you might actually have some sort of breathing issue. Well, technically, you were struggling to breathe right now so it made sense that he would think that but if he only knew the actual answer was something that was beyond ridiculous and couldn’t be explained away as something as serious as asthma. 

“No,” you whispered, rubbing at the spot in your chest where a mix of discomfort and a heavy-rock-feeling sat. 

“And you’re sure you don’t need to go to the hospital to get checked out?” He sounded concerned now. 

“No,” you repeated, staring up at your ceiling, your vision blurring with building tears. All you wanted to do was give this helpline thing a shot since nothing else seemed to be working, and here you had gone and made it so much worse. On top of that, you were frustrated that you couldn’t even do something as simple as answer a person when they said hello on a phone call that you made to them. What was wrong with you? 

“Okay. That’s good. Why don’t I talk for a minute so you can relax?” A tear slipped down your cheek when you realized he must have heard your heavy exhales over the phone. “Like I said before, my name is CJ. I’ve been with the helpline for a while now. I’m here four days a week. I try to schedule shifts around my classes and pick up a few extra when I’m able. Before you called, I was doing some reading for my Philosophy class. It’s not my major but I had to take another humanities course. It was that or religion so…philosophy it was.”

You closed your eyes and focused on his voice. It was actually very soothing and it was helping.

“Between you and me, I’m not the best student.” Your eyes opened and you stared at the ceiling, listening intently. “I mean, I do okay in terms of grades, but I’m not exactly a frequent flier on the Dean’s list.” He chuckled and after a moment, he asked, “How about you?”

You swallowed, feeling the slightest bit of easing up on your chest, almost if it was allowing the words through. “I do okay.” You didn’t sound as raspy as before but you still had a faint wheeze at the end. You were coming out of this, slowly but surely.

“That’s good. College sure isn’t easy, by any means. When midterms roll around, I always get a little more stressed. I usually have to blow off some steam to keep it all balanced, you know? Or else I get easily overwhelmed. I have to remind myself to take it one class at a time, one day at a time. But easier said than done sometimes, right?”

“Right.” You knew what he was doing but since it seemed to be helping, you played along. He was getting to the heart of the issue while also giving you time to come back down. You’d only been on the phone with him for close to ten minutes and already you felt much better than you had when the call started. 

“How are you feeling? Any better?”

“A little.” 

“Good.” He sounded genuinely pleased. “Is my being the one to talk helping any?”

“Actually…yeah,” you breathed out. 

“Does this happen a lot?”

You bit at your lip, not really wanting to admit it, but you had called for this very reason, hadn’t you? “Yeah.”

“Around midterms or anytime?”

“Anytime.”

“Even when you’re not in school?”

“Sometimes,” you whispered. “But mostly when I’m here.”

“So school related then?”

“Kind of.”

He was quiet for a moment and you wondered if you had said something wrong or if he was looking instructions up in a pamphlet or something for this sort of thing. 

“Hey, did you see Phantom Menace when it came out last year?”

That caught you off guard. You hadn’t expected to switch gears so quickly. “Um, no?”

“You’re not a Star Wars fan, I take it?”

He didn’t sound disappointed so you chalked that up to being a good thing. Most guys you’d met either were completely into Star Wars or weren’t into it at all. “I don’t know if I’d call myself a fan but I’ve seen the original movies.” 

“Uh oh, you’re not one of those prequel snobs, are you?” He teased.

“No? I just saw the trailer and I wasn’t interested.”

“Well, a buddy of mine and I went to see it when it came out. The theater was packed. I’m talking bursting at the seams.” A small smile started to creep onto your face at his energy. “And when the lights went down and the opening credits started rolling and the music started up, everyone was cheering and clapping. It was pretty awesome. My buddy ended up loving it. He’s the biggest Star Wars fan you’ve ever met.” A moment later he asked, “So besides anything in a galaxy, far far away, have you seen any other movies that came out?”

“I went to see The Green Mile. My, uh, my dad is a big Tom Hanks fan and a Stephen King fan so he really wanted to go.”

“And you?”

“I liked it. Though it was sad.” 

“I didn’t see it yet but I got the feeling that it was going to be a bit of a heavy one.”

“It was, but it was worth it.” You noticed then that you were talking to him normally, you were breathing normally, your chest was still a little tight but that was to be expected, and you were sitting up with your back to the wall. You had gotten through your latest episode and this CJ had helped. Perhaps there was something to this helpline thing after all.

“I’m definitely going to check it out then. Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome.”

Almost as if he had heard your thoughts, he then said, “You sound a lot better than earlier. Hopefully, you’re feeling better, too?”

“Um, yeah.” You anxiously tucked your hair behind your ear. “Thanks for earlier, by the way. You know, being patient…”

“Of course. That’s what I’m here for.”

“Right.”

“So, you feel up to telling me what’s going on and why you called tonight or did you want to talk about something else?”

You bit at your thumbnail, unsure. “I feel bad. I’ve taken up so much of your time already.” You glanced at the clock and saw that you had been on the phone with him now for almost half an hour. 

“Don’t worry about the time and I don’t want you feeling badly.” He sounded completely genuine when he said it and it made you feel a little bit better about monopolizing his time like this. “This is why I’m here. So, if you want to talk, I’m here to listen.”

You still weren’t certain you should take him up on his offer. “Are you sure? What if there’s someone else who needs to call in who is having an actual crisis and you’re stuck on the phone with me? I would feel bad if they didn’t get to talk to you when they needed to because of me.”

“I’m not the only one here so if someone else does call in, they’ll speak to one of the other counselors who can help them. While we’re on the subject, what you’re experiencing is just as valid as what anyone else might be experiencing. I’m not stuck on the phone with you, I want to be talking with you and try to help you in any way I can. And yes, I’m sure.”

You contemplated it, turning it over and over in your brain. This was why you called. This was why you decided to give the helpline a try, to speak to a stranger who would listen and possibly be able to help you and if not, at least maybe understand where you were coming from. If he was willing (and he had been helpful so far), then why not?

“Would it help if I promise not to make any more Star Wars references?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Tremendously.” 

“Deal,” he laughed. You liked the sound of his laugh; it was warm, inviting, and put you instantly at ease. This CJ seemed to know what he was doing and you could now see why people called in to speak to him and other counselors like him. 

You nervously licked your lips and decided to take the plunge. You told him everything. You told him about how it started when you began college, how the classes and workload immediately overwhelmed you. How you struggled to keep from drowning in assignments and tests and projects and papers. How you started to develop these episodes and how badly you felt during them. How you had tried to talk to your parents but they just didn’t seem to hear you, dismissing it as an issue that would be resolved by you being more outgoing and feeling more grateful that you had such an educational opportunity when many didn’t. How you could be in a room full of a hundred people and still feel completely alone, especially when an episode kicked in. You’d even told him about your failed attempt at attending the frat party. He had rarely talked, giving you the floor, but he had interjected a couple of times to either support you or make some helpful suggestions. Other than that, he just listened. By the time you finished, you felt like you had told him your whole life story, but you had to admit that you felt a lot better once you got it all off your chest, which incidentally, was feeling lighter. And this time, someone listened and actually heard you. That made all the difference.

You glanced at the clock for the first time in a long time and noted it was 10:16. Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped, your cheeks immediately heating up. Had you really been talking nonstop for over three hours? “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize it was so late. I should let you go so you can speak to other callers.”

“My shift ended fifteen minutes ago actually.”

Your heart stopped and however much better you’d been feeling, felt like it went right down the drain. How could you have been so self-absorbed and only concerned with your problems that you’d talked his ear off and used up his whole shift? Not one other person got to talk to him tonight and you didn’t even go to that school. Seriously, how selfish were you? “I-I’m so, so sorry. You should have stopped me or told me there was a time limit per call.” You were full on babbling now. “I didn’t mean to— I am so beyond sorry. I’m going to let you go. Thank you so much for your help and I hope you have a good rest of your night. Don’t worry. I promise I won’t call again. Good night.”

You went to hang up the phone when you heard loudly, “Please don’t hang up.”

You put it back to your ear, your brows drawing together in confusion. “But you said your shift was over.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “But that’s okay. If I wanted you to stop talking, I would have said something. And did I ask you to stop?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Then I didn’t want you to stop talking. It seems like there’s a lot on your plate at the moment or else you wouldn’t have called, right?”

“Okay, yeah. But—”

“So it’s good that you called and I’m glad I was able to help. And for the record, there’s no time limit on a call.” Someone said something to him in the background and he quietly responded though you couldn’t hear what he said. “I’m actually gonna get going because my replacement is here and they don’t have another place to sit.” 

“Right. Of course. Again, sorry.”

“But,” he continued. “I’m going to be here Monday afternoon around 2 so if you want to call back then we can talk again.”

“I have class then.” You truly did but even if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be calling him back. You had taken up enough of his time.

“I’m here until 6:00 that day.”

“I have a study session after that class.” Okay, maybe that was a lie. “But I appreciate the offer. Thank you and have a good—”

“I’m back on again next Friday. Same time. Why don’t you call me then if you’re free?”

“I appreciate it, CJ, but don’t worry. If I need the helpline again, I’ll call, but you helped me a lot tonight and I feel better so…I won’t need to call. Again, I’m sorry I monopolized your shift.”

“Do me a favor and call me again anyway, even if you are feeling better. I’d like to check in with you and the only way I can do that is if you call me back.”

“Right. Being anonymous and all,” you mumbled. Thank God for that. You didn’t think your embarrassment at talking his head off for over three hours while you complained about your life would ever go away.

“Yeah. So, please, if you can call me next week, same time, even if you just tell me you’re feeling better and hang up. That’s all I ask.”

You supposed you could do that, after he’d generously taken the time to hear you out, after he’d helped you through your episode. “Okay.”

“Friday, 7:00. Promise me.”

“I promise,” you whispered.

And so had begun the tradition of you calling him every Friday night at 7:00. You hadn’t intended for that to happen, honestly. But each time you would talk to him, ranging in times from twenty minutes to an hour and a half (you refused to ever get near that three hour mark again, no matter what he said), he would always ask you to call him back the following week, making you promise that you would. Over time, you noticed that your overwhelmed feeling had lessened considerably (though not completely gone) and instead of having an episode (or panic attack as CJ called them) twice weekly, they had now diminished to one every couple of weeks. And even then they weren’t as bad as they had been, thanks to the techniques CJ suggested you try using. Things had gotten better for you and you had to admit, the helpline definitely was a useful service for students, though for your own personal experience, you attributed a lot of that to CJ.

Speaking of which, that was how you two began to get to know one another, moving from strictly counselor and caller into a tentative friendship. When initially speaking to him, he began to feel like a friend you were just catching up with on how your past week had been, and then it actually sort of became that. He started to tell you more details about himself and now you knew what type of music he liked, what he was majoring in, where he had grown up, and why he had joined The Stand. He had even shared his backstory with you and why he didn’t drink when you told him how uncomfortable college parties made you in general. The conversation was no longer one-sided and you’d come to like it that way.

Until the day came when he asked your name. 

“My name?”

“Well, yeah, so I know what to call you. It feels weird calling you “you” all the time,” he laughed.

“Um…” You were practically crapping bricks. You didn’t expect this.

“Just your first name. You’ll still be anonymous,” he reassured. “It could be a nickname if you want. Or your middle name. Just something.”

You ran over it in your mind. What if he still somehow managed to find out who you were if you gave him only your first name? Sure, you weren’t going to the same schools, but what if somehow someway…? Plus, your friends weren’t exactly fans of CJ right now. Apparently, Jen had a major crush on him but her hopes were dashed when he told her he didn’t date (something he had told you long before you heard it via your friends) and then hooked up with Audrey the same night. You hadn’t been there that night, opting to stay in and study for a huge test you had coming up in your Lit class, and after hearing that not only had CJ been present but also what happened, you were glad you had made that decision. Audrey and Joey were on the outs thanks to the events of that night and now so were Jen and Audrey once it was revealed that CJ and Audrey had slept together, right before Pacey punched his face in. 

When that Friday rolled around, you almost didn’t call him. You were angry and hurt yourself. Angry because his careless actions had hurt more than one of your friends, and hurt because truth be told, you had started to crush on him yourself from afar. You trusted him with the details of your life, very personal details (without giving specifics obviously), and he’d helped you. How could he be this helpful, compassionate guy working at a helpline but turn out to be this scummy, advantage-taking, selfish player? You couldn’t reconcile in your head the CJ you were getting to know with the CJ your friends saw.

“That’s just the thing, Y/N,” Jen told you when you wondered aloud how a helpline counselor could do something like he had with your friends. “Most people who go into those positions to help other people are usually a thousand times more screwed up than the people they’re helping. Audrey’s been hurting, as you know, and she’s been acting out and he saw an opportunity. Case closed.” But it wasn’t case closed for you. Not by a mile. You wanted answers, but how could you get them while remaining anonymous?

So that following Friday at 7:00, as you angrily punched in the helpline number, you had no idea how you would do it but you were determined to get them. And if you didn’t like what you heard, then this would be your last call and you would close the book on CJ and your budding friendship for good.

It caught you off guard, though, when you heard a different voice this time.

“Hello, Helpline. This is David.”

You nearly hung up. You knew David; he was starting to hang out with your group more and more, especially Jack. What if he recognized your voice?

“Hello?”

You forced yourself to ask the burning question on the tip of your tongue, albeit with a slightly higher pitch of voice. “Hi, is CJ there?”

“No, I’m sorry.” You covered the mouthpiece with your hand and let out a sigh of relief. Whether it was because David didn’t recognize you or you didn’t have to confront CJ right this second, you couldn’t be sure. Probably a bit of both. “He called out sick and asked me to fill in for him. He should be back next week, though.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll call then. Thank you.” You quickly hung up before he could ask you anything else.

The next Friday you called, you got CJ.

“Hey,” he greeted, sounding relieved when he heard your voice. “How are you?”

“I’m okay.” You were standing in your dorm room, staring out the window and watching the rain, your arms crossed. You weren’t as angry as last week, the extra time allowing you to let a cooler head prevail, but you still wanted answers. “How are you?”

“Honestly? I’ve been better.”

“I’m sorry. I know you were sick last week. Has it not gotten any better?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m sorry about that. I was feeling lousy and just needed to take a day, you know?” And he didn’t need to be parading around a still-healing black eye that might prompt questions, you bet. 

“I get that.”

“God, I wish I had your number outside of this so I could call you.” Your jaw tightened. Perhaps your friends were right; there was a whole other side to him. A side you didn’t really want to get to know. “I really could’ve used a friend to talk to.”

You unclenched your jaw when you realized he wasn’t hitting on you and when you thought about it, he sounded genuinely miserable and he never had in any of your previous conversations, even when your friendship formed. It was unlike him, or at least the CJ you had gotten to know. Just like this behavior your friends had told you about sounded unlike him. “Well, I’m here now, if you want to talk.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to make this about me. You called in to talk, not to hear about my problems,” he laughed, sounding nervous. That was a first.

“I’m sure. What are friends for?”

He told you everything while not naming anyone. He didn’t hold back anything and you realized that while he didn’t know who you were, he was giving you the side that had been missing from the story your friends told you: his side. Every side has a story after all. He admitted he had messed up big time. He had hurt Jen (or Blondie as he called her), he had been an ass to Pacey (or The Guy Who Punched My Face) when he had no right to be, and he should have never hooked up with Audrey (or The Girl That Came Out of Nowhere). Apparently, Jen had said to him the same thing she said to you and it got him thinking, along with some things Audrey had said. He felt like a huge jerk and all he wanted to do was keep his head down and move forward, get back on the right track that his life had been headed in. You stayed silent as he talked and before you knew it, the clock read 9:47. 

“Your shift is over soon,” you whispered once he was done.

“Yeah, but I still have a few minutes. So what do you think? Am I a complete jackass or what?” He let out another nervous chuckle.

You briefly pressed your lips together as you thought of how best to answer that. In the end, you were as honest as you could be without giving yourself away. “I think we all make mistakes sometimes. But as long as we recognize them, apologize to those we’ve hurt, and try to do better, then that’s all that matters. So no, not a complete jackass.” 

This time when he laughed, it sounded relieved. “Thanks.”

“Of course. That’s what I’m here for,” you repeated his words back to him, teasing him slightly.

A moment of silence passed between you before he asked, “Will you call again next week?”

That made you do a double take. He never asked you to call the following week like that. Usually he asked in the form of making you promise you would call or he’d tell you he’d talk to you the following week. But when he asked like this, he sounded uncertain, vulnerable. You knew then that more than just his face and ego had been hurt by recent events. Perhaps you were a fool but you believed his remorse to be genuine. 

“Yeah,” you assured him. “I’ll call next week.”

And when you did, he immediately hit you with the name question. 

“Earth to you…” He called, snapping you out of it and reclaiming your attention. “See? It doesn’t really work,” he laughed.

You had to be careful here. Not only because you didn’t want him to find out who you were but also because if your friends ever found out, especially Audrey…you were toast. 

You opened your mouth to give him the name of a classmate that couldn’t be traced back to you but “Jo” came tumbling out instead.

“Jo?”

Oh crap. You had Audrey and then Joey on your mind and it just slipped out. Crap, crap, crap. “Yeah,” you lied. “Jo.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Jo.” You could practically hear him smiling, happy to have gotten a name out of you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, angry with yourself. “Nice to meet you, too,” you mumbled before you dropped your head into your hands.  

So now here you were, him thinking you were Jo from the college he was attending, and you were calling him every single week at the same time like clock work. You had long ago stopped questioning the morality of what you were doing and it seemed that he didn’t appear to question it at all. He was always happy to hear from you and your conversations were more personal now. You couldn’t deny the way your heart rate spiked every time you heard his voice when he picked up the call or how whenever his name was mentioned in passing by David or Jen (though rare these days), you would specifically tune in, listening for anything that had to do with him. You had it bad and you knew it, but it was also a safe crush from a distance and would be staying that way.

You shook your head, snapping yourself out of your reverie and remembered CJ has asked you a question. “I’m good. Really good. How about you?”

“Really good, huh? I’m happy to hear it and happy to be hearing from you.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, I got that paper back and you were so right, The Writing Center really helped. I can’t believe I never thought to try it before. Thank you so much for that idea.”

“I’m happy to be of service,” he chuckled. “I’m glad it helped. And the club thing? Did you give that a try as well?”

Your smile dropped. He had been trying to urge you to join a club or a group where you had shared interests with other students. His theory was that if you gave a small group of people a shot doing a social activity you might enjoy, that it might help decrease your nervousness in other social settings. Even though you told him you had a group of friends you regularly met up with, he didn’t think expanding your social circles would be a bad thing to consider. “No? I told you, CJ, that’s not really my thing.”

“I get that, I do. How about this? If you want, I could meet you at Student Activities and we could take a look around together, get some info. No pressure, of course, but you wouldn’t have to walk in there alone. I know it can be a bit much sometimes. I remember my first semester here and I didn’t know where to stick my head.”

You froze. That was the first time he’d ever mentioned the possibility of you meeting in person. Perhaps if you were really Jo from Boston Bay College, you could take him up on it or give him your number like he’d asked you for or call his room number like he’d offered up a few times now so you could talk outside of the helpline. But you weren’t and so you had to decline. “I appreciate the offer but it’s not my thing so I’m going to have to pass. Sorry, but thank you, though.” 

“If you’re sure.” He sounded slightly disappointed but maybe that was just you imagining it. 

“Yep, I’m sure. Uh, so listen, I can’t stay on long. My roommate and her boyfriend will be here in less than ten so I’m gonna go so I can get out of here before I get hit by the clothes hurricane that’s most likely to happen.” It was a complete lie. Your roommate, Stacey, had actually gone to visit her boyfriend for the weekend. You would have peace and quiet and the dorm to yourself for two whole days. 

He chuckled good-naturedly. “I don’t blame you. If you get bored later, I’m here at The Stand until 10:00, like you already know, and then I’ll be back in my room. You can call me then if you want to talk. I”ll be up for a while so don’t worry about calling too late.”

“Oh. Thanks. Maybe I’ll do that.” You weren’t going to and he knew you weren’t going to. You hadn’t the last two times he’d made the same offer and the last two times you’d given him the same response.

“Jo?”

“Yeah?”

“If I don’t hear from you… Call next week, okay?”

“Okay,” you agreed, smiling, like always. You said your quick goodbyes and you hung up, letting out a heavy breath. While he had been urging you to contact him personally, he had never mentioned meeting him before. That was different. And it worried you at the same time. Why the offer now? Granted, he was just trying to be helpful to you, given the context, but what if he began to find other ways to work it in like he already had about your phone numbers? What if he continued to push to meet Jo? 

You shook your head, telling yourself that you were doing it again, worrying over things that might not happen. You would cross that bridge when you came to it, something CJ had once said to you that you kept for yourself as your own personal mantra. You would wait to see how next week would go.

But unfortunately, the call never happened.

You had been out with Jack and David on Thursday night at Hell’s Kitchen, when Jen waltzed in, smiling and taking a seat. Joey and Emma were working and Pacey was supposed to join you later.

“You worked late today,” Jack commented. 

“Training took a little bit longer than expected. We were supposed to be done at 6:00 but then our relief called and said they were going to be late. Of course, since CJ was going to stay, I wasn’t going to just leave him there.” Your ears perked up at the mention of CJ. You knew Jen was training as a counselor and he was the one training her. Jen had begrudgingly forgiven CJ but it was also obvious to you all that she still had a crush on him. While you couldn’t blame her, you also felt for her. CJ told you that he had to make it clear once more to Blondie that he wasn’t looking to date though he was happy she had finally started training at the helpline. He really believed she would make a great counselor once she settled into it. 

Talk about complicated. Jen was your friend and you didn’t want to see her get hurt, but you could also understand if CJ didn’t see her that way, he just didn’t. They were both your friends now and you just wanted them both to be happy, whatever that looked like.

“But then, listen to this,” she continued. “Our relief, this guy named Seth, sees me there with CJ and starts teasing him about how he’s racking up all of these beautiful girls through the helpline, not leaving any for him.”

“Jen,” Jack warned. 

“No, listen. This is good. You’re going to like this.” 

Jack sighed but let her finish.

“CJ laughs it off but then Seth mentions how he has this girl calling him every Friday night, around the same time, and she talks his ear off for hours.”

You were about to take a bite of your french fry when you froze. Your heart dropped down to your feet. 

“And so I ask if this is true and CJ says that we’re there to help everybody, time limits aren’t a thing, and it doesn’t matter how many times a caller calls back or they speak to the same counselor. As long as they get the help they need.”

“He’s right,” David chimed in.

“But then Seth starts teasing him again and asks if CJ can give him tips on how to get dates using the helpline. CJ laughs and says sure. I mention how he said he wasn’t looking to date and Seth says he tells every girl that so he doesn’t have to commit but can still get what he wants.” You dropped your fry back into your basket, trying to ignore the rolling nausea in your stomach. 

“I don’t know about that,” David chuckled nervously.

“He didn’t deny it, David. He just laughed and walked away. Can you believe it? He’s using the helpline to get girls. Talk about abusing the system, not to mention the absolute lack of morality.” You definitely felt like you were going to be sick. “I quit. If that’s what guys like him and Seth are using that helpline for then I don’t want any part of it. And CJ? Audrey was right. He’s a skeevy player. I can’t believe I didn’t see it this whole time.” Jen shook her head. You were getting that all-too familiar falling feeling again. 

“Wait, seriously? Guys are using the helpline to pick up girls?” Jack turned to David.

“No. Jen, I’m sure Seth was just kidding and CJ was just playing along. Nobody is using the helpline to pick anyone up. Everyone that works there knows the rules and they’re there to help callers. How could they pick anyone up, anyway? It’s all anonymous.”

“Yeah, but if they pushed for a date or something… It could happen.” You immediately felt your stomach jolt and like someone had punched you in the gut at the same time.

“It could,” David agreed. “But I doubt it does.”

“He has the same girl calling him every single week at the same time. What would keep her calling like that?” Jen interjected. You glanced away from the table for a moment, not sure if you wanted to hear the answer David would give.

“Is that true? Every week?” Jack asked in disbelief.

“It’s true,” David confirmed. “I actually got her once when CJ was out sick. She sounded nice.” If you could have, you would have given him a smile, thankful for David’s attempt to defend CJ and the helpline and unknowingly you. But right then, you were trying not to hyperventilate. “And CJ appears to be helping her. He said she’s made a lot of progress since they started talking.”

“He talked to you about her?” Jen looked shocked. Oh God. Your chest started to feel tight.

“Only because he was going to be out sick that one day and in case she called and then decided to talk to me, he wanted me to be up to speed in case she needed something. That’s all.”

“I feel badly for this girl. She probably thinks CJ is some great guy and she can trust him but based on what Seth said, he’s simply playing the long game with her. A girl whose trust he’s taking advantage of. I’m telling you, Audrey was right about him and I should’ve seen it.” Jen rubbed at her forehead. It was beyond hot in here and even though it wasn’t crowded, the room started to feel smaller.

“I don’t think that’s true, Jen,” David defended. “I don’t think he’s looking to take advantage of this girl at all. I think he truly wants to help her.”

“Yeah, that’s how it started with Audrey and look at how that turned out.” David dropped his gaze to his food, continuing to poke at it with his fork. There wasn’t much he could say to that though he wished he still would. “And if that’s true, he only wants to help her, then why was he laughing along when Seth talked about her and how she keeps him on the phone for hours? How is that helping her?”

You felt like your feet were locked in cement but your legs were wobbling to and fro. And yet you also felt like a large boulder was now sitting on your chest, making it difficult to breathe. How could any of this conversation be happening right now?

Jack glanced from David to Jen. “Perhaps David’s right, Jen. Maybe he was just playing along. That’s what guys do sometimes. You know that.”

“I don’t think that’s what that was. Either way, I quit.”

Jack and David started to urge her not to quit, but at that point you’d had enough. Your hands were clammy and you felt that feeling on your forehead, too. You needed cold, and air. “Excuse me,” you nearly rasped out and beat a hasty retreat to the bathroom. You could feel your dinner coming back up. Joey stopped you in your trek.

“Hey, Y/N, are you okay? You don’t look so good.”

You shook your head and dodged past her, hurrying to the bathroom. Once you reached it, you locked the door and pushed into a stall just in time. You emptied the contents of your stomach and once you were finished, you made your way towards the sink, splashing cold water on your face. You could feel the panic attack you were having and you tried your best to ward it off but to no avail.

You slid down the wall and struggled to breathe, trying the techniques CJ had taught you. You didn’t want to think about him right now but you also didn’t want to be having this happen while your friends sat right outside. Not to mention, you knew Joey was going to come check on you. You gasped for air and rubbed at your chest. Once it passed, you unlocked the door, made excuses to Joey and your friends, went home, showered, and cried yourself to sleep. For the first time in a while, you’d had a particularly bad episode and ended the night in tears: two things you hadn’t done since you’d started talking to CJ regularly. You felt as if all the progress you’d made was like a house of cards that fell to the ground after one card was pulled out from under you. And all because you’d trusted the wrong person. 

So you stopped calling and instead, spent your Friday nights at the library, studying, so you wouldn’t be tempted to pick up the phone and call to confront the guy who’d betrayed your trust.

<-->

A few weeks later, you were sitting on Joey’s bed, watching Audrey unload her closet onto her mattress. Apparently, she was going to rehab, for real this time. She was ready to confront the fact that her drinking was out of control. Joey was helping her sort through everything and handed you things to fold and place in her suitcase. Eddie had already taken one heavy suitcase down to the car, along with a very high Bob. 

You all looked up when there was a polite knock on their dorm room door. Joey got up to answer it, most likely thinking it was Eddie, but when she opened the door, it revealed another guy altogether.

There stood CJ, in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt with a jacket covering his tall frame. Your heart skipped a beat before falling into your stomach but then leaping back into place and pounding faster than before for a whole other reason. You immediately grabbed a magazine from the nightstand and began sifting through it, your jaw clenched and you refusing to look in his direction.

Before anyone could say a word, Audrey groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw CJ hold up a placating hand in her direction. “I’m not here for you, okay? I’m actually looking for someone.”

You froze.

“I bet you are,” Audrey grumbled.

Joey crossed her arms. “Who?”

“A girl by the name of Jo who lives in this building.”

You mentally cursed yourself. You knew you had let the name of your dorm building slip once by accident but he hadn’t appeared to have heard you so you thought you were in the clear; apparently, he had heard you. Crap.

Joey tensed. Uh oh. You had a feeling this was going to come back to haunt you at some point. Here it was. “Why are you looking for me?”

CJ’s brow drew together. “You’re Jo?”

Audrey was suddenly at Joey’s side. “Yeah, why are you looking for her?”

“Jo is a girl who called the helpline. I haven’t heard from her in a few weeks and I just wanted to check on her.”

Her distaste for CJ forgotten, Audrey turned in shock to her roommate. “Joey Potter, you called the helpline?”

“What? No. Don’t be ridiculous, Audrey.” Joey then looked at CJ. “I don’t know who this girl is but it’s not me. Good luck in your search.” She went to close the door but CJ stopped her.

“Wait, so you’ve never heard of a girl named Jo who lives in this building?”

“No,” Audrey snapped. “Now, go away.”

“Hold on a second. Because Joanna Martin who lives on the 2nd floor isn’t her and has never heard of her. Now you’re saying you’re not her and you’ve never heard of her either?”

Audrey gave him a nasty smirk. “Imagine that. A girl using a fake name calling an anonymous helpline. She probably knows what a sleazeball you are and didn’t want you stalking her. If she was calling the helpline, she’s probably got enough on her plate. Best of luck, Stalker Boy.”

Audrey went to shut the door in his face but again, he stopped it.

“I don’t really care what you think of me. You want to think I’m the bad guy in everything that happened with us? That’s fine. But I’m actually trying to find this girl to help her.”

“Help her into your bed, you mean.”

His jaw clenched. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh, I bet it is but whatever.” Audrey rolled her eyes and turned back to you. “Y/N, have you ever heard of this girl he’s looking for?”

Your eyes snapped up to them and all three of them were now staring at you, waiting for your answer. Crap. CJ was looking right at you. Double crap. You shook your head and went back to your magazine. 

“There you go. No one here has heard of her. Buh-bye now.” 

Audrey was closing the door when Joey’s phone started to ring. Joey, who had gone back into the whirlwind of clothes, looked over at you. “Hey, can you get that? Eddie might be calling from his cell phone.”

You nodded and picked up the line. “Hello?”

“Hey, Y/N. Can I talk to Joey? Audrey’s friend, Bob, is getting a little impatient down here.”

“Sure. One sec.” You handed the phone to Joey. “It’s Eddie.” She took it and began rolling her eyes when Eddie was most likely telling her the same thing he had just told you. She came over, zipped up the suitcase you had been working on after dumping more things into it. “Do you mind taking this to Eddie downstairs? He’ll meet you in the lobby.”

“Sure thing.” You tossed the magazine back onto the night stand and grabbed the suitcase handle, picking it up and placing it on its wheels. You slipped your worn paperback copy of your book into the back pocket of your jeans, intent on returning it to your room when you came back up. Now that you knew CJ was trying to track you down and he was in the building, you didn’t feel comfortable having any clues pointing to your identity out in the open like that. 

You grabbed the tail of the suitcase and began to pull it along. “Oh my God, Aud. Do you really need this many outfits?” 

She looked up from her cell phone and gave you a smile. “Of course. Rehab is bound to be drab so I’m going to make it fab.” She shot you a wink and opened the door for you. 

You laughed and shook your head, crossing over the threshold. You made your way to the elevator and pushed the button. While you were waiting, you heard behind you, “Need some help with that?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin. CJ was right there, behind you, talking directly to you. While a part of you wanted to tell him to take a hike, your desire for anonymity was greater. You turned and gave him a wan smile, shaking your head. His green eyes were intent on you and you didn’t care for that one bit. It was like he knew who you were without you even having to say it. Luckily, at that moment, the elevator dinged and the door opened. You went to roll the suitcase onto it when a hand picked it up out of nowhere.

“Let me give you a hand,” CJ offered, not waiting for you to reply and stepping into the elevator. You paused for a moment, considering not getting onto it with him but Eddie was expecting you and Joey and Audrey were waiting for you to come back. You let out a quiet sigh and stepped inside, hitting the button for the Lobby and waiting for the doors to close.

Once they did and you started descending, CJ glanced over at you. “So, Jo, were you planning on ever calling me again?”

Your heart started to pound but you forced yourself to remain cool as a cucumber, hoping he wouldn’t recognize your voice. You arched a questioning brow up at him. “I don’t know who you think I am but my name’s Y/N. Sorry to disappoint.” You turned back to the door.

“The Green Mile book in your back pocket says otherwise.”

Crap. You tried to think quickly. “That’s just a book I’m reading for class.” You decided to channel Audrey, the queen of mean when she wanted to be; perhaps that would get him to leave you alone. The doors were opening and you turned to give him a smirk. “NIce try, though, Sherlock. Better get back to Watson before he misses you.” You grabbed the tail of the suitcase and nearly stormed out of the elevator. 

CJ was suddenly at your side. “I know it’s you. Why are you trying so hard to act like it’s not?”

You shook your head, choosing to ignore him. Thankfully, Eddie came into sight, rushing to get the suitcase. 

“Thank you, thank you.” He picked it up and gave you a look. “About how many more of these are coming down, do you think?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. She has a lot of outfits. Joey’s got her work cut out for her.”

Eddie groaned and then noticed CJ standing next to you. “Good to see you again, man.”

“Likewise.”

Eddie glanced between you and CJ before walking away. Great. He was bound to mention that to Joey who would most likely question you about it later thanks to CJ’s impromptu appearance earlier. You spun on your heel and headed back to the elevator, punching the button.  

CJ was suddenly next to you. “What happened? Why did you stop calling?” He quietly asked you. 

You didn’t answer him, just kept staring straight ahead, your jaw clenched.

He leaned in slightly, his voice even quieter. “Did I make you nervous by offering to meet you? I was only trying to help. Nothing funny, I promise.”

When the doors opened, you stepped inside and of course, he followed you. The doors closed and your ride up began. 

“Are you going to talk to me or just keep ignoring me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know your voice. It’s you.” After another quiet moment, he begged, “Would you please just talk to me? What happened?”

You shook your head.

“Something obviously happened to make you stop calling. So, talk to me. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

You glared over at him. “Again, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now please stop bothering me.” CJ looked as if you’d slapped him for a moment and you felt guilty but then you immediately remembered what Jen had said that night at the bar. 

He gave you a curt nod and turned to face the door. Once it opened, you went to step out when he lifted the book out of your back pocket. 

“Hey! Give that back!” He held it out of your reach, opening it to find the note from your dad on the inside page that he’d written after he bought it for you. Why did you have to mention that in your phone conversations? That was a dead giveaway that yes, Jo was indeed you. How could you have been so stupid?

CJ gestured to the note. “Tell me again how it’s not you.”

You snatched the book out of his hands and hurried down the hall to your room. You would’ve gone back to Audrey’s and Joey’s room, but you were afraid he’d out you to them. Even if they didn’t believe him, you still remembered Audrey’s reaction when she thought it might be Joey for a moment and the latter’s response. 

“Y/N, wait,” CJ begged behind you. “Please, can we just talk for a minute?” You were unlocking your door when he was right next to you. “Just one minute. Please. That’s all I’m asking. Then, if you want, you’ll never see or hear from me again.”

You mulled it over for a moment. You could do one minute, you supposed, and get this over with. You glanced up at him and nodded, pretending not to see the relief that filled his expression. You opened the door and then held it open wider for him to follow.

You saw your roommate sitting on her bed, talking on the phone to her boyfriend. “Stace,” you interrupted. “Can you give us a minute?”

She frowned. “I’m kind of in the middle of—”

“I need the room.” Your tone brooked no argument. You surprised her; usually, you kept to yourself and never really stood up to her if she got mean or demanding. But you were not in the mood for any of her crap right then. You were at your limit.

Stacey scoffed but got to her feet. “One second, babe.” She glared at you, which you were more than happy to return, and then turned it onto CJ as well. “Boys aren’t allowed to stay up here so make it quick. You know the rules.”

You huffed out a snort. “The rule you break almost every other night? Got it, Stace, thanks for looking out.” You practically shut the door in her scowling face. You turned to find CJ’s eyes trained on you.

“So that’s the roommate, huh?” You shrugged. “Exactly how I pictured her, scowl and everything.”

You didn’t laugh at his joke and instead, crossed your arms. “You wanted to talk?”

He pressed his lips together and thrust his hands into his jacket pockets. “Why did you stop calling?”

You wanted to tell him the truth but it also seemed best to just get him out of there as soon as possible. He knew who you really were now and that was a problem. Especially if your friends found out you were the girl that had been calling him every week. Because sooner or later, they would want to know why and you weren’t ready to talk about that or have them look at you funny. You knew they’d be supportive, especially Joey and Audrey, but you also knew things would change. And you weren’t quite ready for that to happen. 

“I’ve been doing better so there was no need. You should know, you made me your pet project after all.” You didn’t mean to be harsh but you were still angry. 

His brows furrowed. “What does that mean?”

“You know. I’m the girl who calls you every week to talk your ear off and keeps you on the phone for hours. The girl you’ve supposedly been trying to pick up through the helpline, though apparently I’m not the only one.”

His eyes widened. “Y/N, that’s not true at all. I don’t use the helpline to pick up girls or try to get dates. I don’t date, you know I don’t. I don’t know who told you that but it’s not true.”

“But the other part is?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Because that’s how your buddy Seth put it, the way Jen tells it.”

CJ huffed out a mirthless laugh, rubbing at his forehead and giving a nod. “Jen. That’s who you heard this from.”

“Don’t even,” you snapped. “David also mentioned how you told him all about me and my issues.” You used quotation marks on the last word.

His hand dropped. “Okay, first off, you don’t have issues, no more than anybody else around here, myself included. Second, I only told David because I was going to be out that one night. I wanted to make sure if you called in that you were taken care of. That’s it. David is one of our better counselors, he’s a friend, and I trust him completely.”

Your jaw tightened. “That still doesn’t explain why Seth would even say anything like that. And you laughed! You stood there and laughed as this guy, who I don’t know by the way, is turning me calling you for help into a joke! Is that what I am? The joke at the office? Does everyone there know how I’ve been calling you every week and boring you to death with my problems?”

“What? No! You’re not a joke. And you’re not—”

“Really? Because it sure sounded like it to me based on what Jen said.”

“Okay, let’s get something straight. You’re not boring me to death when you call, you’re not talking my ear off, or keeping me stuck on the phone with you, or anything else that someone else might have said. I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to be there for you and try to help. Then when we started talking about more than that, I wanted to talk to you even more. If I didn’t want to talk to you at all, if you were such a nuisance, then why would I ask you to call back every week or give you my phone number even?”

“But you weren’t trying to pick me up.”

“No, I wasn’t. I wanted to be available to you if you needed to talk to me outside of the hours I had at The Stand.”

“Yeah, because I was your pet project.”

“No, you weren’t and why do you keep saying that?”

“It’s true, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not.” 

“Isn’t that what you do, though? Isn’t that why you tracked me down? Isn’t that why you kept trying to get my number and even suggested we meet though the helpline’s supposed to be anonymous? You look for girls who are messed up and try to be their white knight. It gives you some sort of satisfaction, some twisted sense of purpose… That’s what happened with Audrey, right?” Again, he looked like you slapped him but this time, you didn’t feel guilty. You were only speaking the truth. He had told you how much he wanted to help Audrey and how somehow they ended up in bed together and before he knew it, he really liked her and wanted to see more of her. In the end, he’d admitted to you that it might have been him confusing his desire to help her with his interest in her. That maybe Audrey had been right in what she’d said.

You watched as his shoulders deflated slightly and he let out a heavy breath, hanging his head. You bit your lip and glanced away from him, not wanting to see him look so defeated. You had to be strong, you had to stand up for yourself and not let him or anyone else take advantage of you. That was the silent vow you’d made to yourself after you’d cried yourself to sleep that night you found out how you were being used and made a mockery of.

“I tracked you down because I was worried,” he spoke softly. You turned back to find him staring at you, remorse radiating from him. You felt slightly bad for hurting him but you had said nothing but the truth, from his own lips. “It wasn’t like you not to call so I thought maybe something happened or maybe I made you nervous with that last call. Like I said, I gave you my number because I wanted to be there for you anytime you needed me, even if I wasn’t working. So this way you always had a way to get a hold of me if you needed to. I only asked for yours because I did like talking to you and I thought we were becoming friends. I know that’s not the norm for the helpline and it’s never happened before, to me or to anyone else that I know of, but like I said, I enjoyed talking to you. I only offered to meet you at Student Activities that day because you seemed nervous to try it alone and I didn’t want you to feel like that. I would’ve made that offer to anyone that needed it.” He nervously licked his lips. “I do like you but it has nothing to do with my wanting to help you or make sure you’re okay. I made a mistake with Audrey but I learned from it. I told you that.” He sighed before continuing. “I like you, Y/N, because you’re funny and smart and kind. Even if we didn’t meet through the helpline, I still would have liked you once I got to talk to you, once I got to know you better. That’s the truth.”

He turned to leave when he stopped suddenly. “By the way, Seth is the guy who usually relieves me on Friday nights. That’s how he knew about you calling every week. He always liked to razz me about being on the phone with you since I made him fifteen minutes late for his shift that one time. I only laughed because it was obvious he was showing off for Jen, that he likes her, and I was trying not to embarrass him in front of her. I did end up talking to him later about it, though, and asked him not to mention it again in front of her or anyone else. He agreed; he’s not a bad guy.” He glanced back at you over his shoulder. “I’m sorry this happened. If you call the helpline again and want to talk to someone else, I understand. If you don’t want to call at all, I understand that, too. Just…take care of yourself, alright?”

You averted your eyes, not wanting him to see the tears building in them, and you gave him a curt nod. You only looked up again when the door snicked closed. You pretended a tear didn’t suddenly roll down your cheek and you told yourself that you had done the right thing. Though it certainly didn’t feel like it in the moment, deep within your chest. 

<-->

You stared at your phone, pacing back and forth as you chewed on your thumbnail. It had been almost a month since CJ walked out of your dorm room, leaving you more conflicted than you felt prior to his arrival. You had turned his explanation over and over in your mind so much that you had begun to dream about him every night. You had more panic attacks during that time, to the point where you’d finally taken the plunge and made an appointment to see a therapist. You’d told your parents everything you’d been experiencing, making sure they heard you this time, and told them you needed help. Your mother was still annoyed with you but your father was supportive, especially when you told him that you had a group of friends you met up with pretty regularly. He agreed to help with payments for your therapy. 

You were doing better, just like you had been while talking to CJ, and the therapist had even more techniques in her toolbox that she taught you how to use. You’d even opened up to her about CJ and everything that happened with him. She was the initial reason why you were considering making a call that you hadn’t made in quite a while. 

When you saw the clock hit 7:21, you made your decision. You huffed out a breath, picked up the phone, and dialed the all-too familiar number.

“Hello, Helpline. This is CJ.”

You resumed your pacing, nervous, unsure of how to say what you wanted to.

“Hello?”

You’ve got this.

“Hello?”

Just do it already. Talk to him.

“Listen, if you’re—”

“What are your plans for tomorrow afternoon?” You rushed out before you lost your nerve.

 “Jo?” You appreciated him using your fake name. “Is that you?”

“Well?” You asked.

“Uh, tomorrow? I’m free...”

“Would you…want to get some coffee? Maybe?”

“Coffee, huh?” You could hear the smile in his voice. “Jo, you’re not calling the helpline to ask me out on a coffee date, are you? Because that would be a serious misuse of this valuable resource the college provides,” he teased.       

“Oh. Okay. Well, I’ll just wait until Seth is on shift then and call him up to ask him instead. Thanks, though. Bye.”

“Don’t you dare,” he laughed. You lifted the phone back up to your ear. “What time and what coffee shop?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Got a pen?”

<-->

You walked into the coffee shop ten minutes early, intent on getting a table and settling in before CJ arrived. To your surprise, he was already there, waving you over. You approached, feeling your heartbeat speed up with every step. “You’re early.”

“I wanted to make sure we got a good table.” You had a feeling that wasn’t the only reason. The worry shadowing his expression confirmed it. Did he really think you had called him up to ask him to meet you only for you not to show? Then again, you supposed you couldn’t blame him.

“Good thinking.” You gestured towards the line with your thumb. “I’m going to get some coffee. Do you want anything?”

He was immediately on his feet. “I’ll get it. You sit down. You still like lattes?”

You gave him a small smile and nodded; he remembered. 

He returned your smile. “Okay. Here, take a seat. I’ll be back in a minute.” You watched him walk over to the line as you did just that. 

You would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous, but you were taking your therapist’s advice. You were moving your friendship with CJ away from the helpline and out into the real world. You were giving him another chance while also allowing both of you to start over. If CJ agreed to, that is.

A few minutes later, he returned and placed your cup in front of you. You gave him a smile of thanks and waited for him to join you.

“So,” he started once he was settled. “You called in.”

“Only to ask you to meet me,” you pointed out.

The corner of his lips tipped up in a genuine smile. “I’m glad you did.”

“Me, too.” And you meant it. You were happy he’d said yes. “I actually asked you to meet me because I wanted to thank you.”

His brows drew together. “Thank me?”

You nodded and began to tell him about all of the recent developments in your life, including therapy. You also apologized for how harsh you’d been the last time you saw each other but he waved it off, saying you didn’t need to and he understood. He listened intently and his smile grew when you mentioned how the therapy was helping and your panic attacks were starting to lessen. 

“I’m really happy to hear it, Y/N, and I’m glad you’re doing better.”

You bit at your lip, feeling nervous about speaking this next part. “It wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t helped me the way you did, especially that first night. So, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he murmured.

Your heart began to pound against your rib cage but you bravely surged forward and kissed his cheek. When you sat back in your chair, his eyes were wide and you felt your face get hot. “Sorry. I just really wanted to do that for a long time. I hope that was okay.”

He grinned. “More than okay.” You felt relief sweep through you. “I was just thinking—”

“I know. You’re not dating, and we’re friends. Don’t worry, I understand.”

He studied you for a moment before speaking again. “I was going to say ‘I was just thinking what a coincidence because there’s something I’ve wanted to do for a really long time, too.’” His hand gently covered yours and he slowly leaned in, giving you time to pull away or tell him to stop. You weren’t going to do either. 

His lips brushed gently against yours and you felt a thrill rush through you at the contact. You had imagined kissing him so many times but the fantasy did absolutely no justice to the real thing. When you broke apart but he didn’t lean back right away, he murmured, “Was that okay?”

“More than okay,” you whispered before pulling him back into you, both of you grinning like idiots before your lips connected again.

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You stopped, seeing the front of the building you were about to go into. “Are you sure we should be doing this?” You asked nervously.

CJ turned back to you and gave you a reassuring smile before cupping your cheek and kissing you. “Yes. We should.”

“But—”

“Everything’s going to be fine,” he assured you. “Trust me. I’m right here with you, okay?” He pecked your lips one more time, tightened his hold on your hand, and began pulling you forward. 

“Okay.” You didn’t sound so sure about this and truthfully, you weren’t.

CJ chuckled and led you inside. The Stand office was decorated with balloons and streamers and there was even confetti on the floor. One of the counselors was leaving since she was soon to graduate and a party was being thrown for her last day. You tried not to get overwhelmed at the amount of people filling the small space. It was overly warm in here and you could barely hear yourself think over the din of multiple conversations going on at once. Somewhere music was playing at a decent level. You noted a room in the back where through the window you could see two people sitting, talking on the phone, a closed door in between them and the noise. 

CJ intertwined your fingers and moved you both towards a group of a few people that he was intent on talking to, people greeting him as he passed. You remembered the techniques you had been taught and tried to put them into action while reminding yourself that you were with CJ and he wasn’t going to abandon you. 

He stopped and greeted the group before he turned to you smiling. “This is Y/N, my girlfriend.”

One of the guys laughed. “Ah, so this is Y/N.” Your heart started hammering inside your chest. “CJ hasn’t shut up about you since you two started dating.” You nearly sighed in relief.

CJ shrugged, grinning down at you. “Seth’s not wrong.”

Your eyes widened before you turned back to the guy. “Oh, so you’re Seth.”

Seth beamed. “Aww, CJ, you told her about me? I just knew we had something special,” he joked.

You frowned. “Hey now. Go get your own CJ. This one’s mine.” You winked up at CJ who laughed. 

He let go of your hand to wrap an arm around your waist and pull you into him. “Definitely yours,” he whispered huskily. 

Seth pretended to gag. “Ugh. Young love. Gross. You can have him, Y/N.”

“Damn right I do,” you laughed as CJ wrapped himself around you from behind and leaned down to kiss your cheek.

From that moment on, it wasn’t so bad. CJ circulated around the room to different groups, introducing you each time. With him by your side, you began to feel more comfortable and you opened up bit by bit. At one point, CJ took your hand and led you away. “I want to show you something.”

“Again?” You teased. “Didn’t you already show me something back in my dorm earlier? Twice?”

“Ha ha. No, this is something different. Though there will definitely be a third time when I get you out of here and back to my place.”

“Ooo. You sure know how to sweet talk a girl, Mr. Braxton.”

He smirked, wiggling his eyebrows playfully, and pulled you into a kiss that left you breathless. “Just a small preview for later.”

“A small preview?” You panted. You just loved teasing him and couldn’t resist.  

He rolled his eyes in amusement. “Come on.”

CJ led you over to a desk and with his free hand, he swiped confetti off of the seat. “This is it. My station,” he told you.

Your eyes roamed over the computer, the keyboard, the notepad and pens, stopping on the corded phone. So this was it. This was where CJ had sat on those Friday nights during your conversations. You smiled to yourself at the memory.

You let out a squeal when CJ quickly sat down in the chair and pulled you into his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck to keep from falling, glaring at his laugh. You softened though when you looked back over the desk. “So this is where you sat on those nights we talked?”

“Uh huh. Though I much prefer you here on this end with me.” He gripped your chin between his fingers and turned you to him, kissing you sweetly. You snuck your fingers into his hair and tilted your head to deepen it, not caring right then about anyone or anything else around you. 

You and CJ had been dating for a while now and it was starting to become serious. He had met your parents when they came to visit. Your dad had liked him right away. Your mom, on the other hand, had given him a bit of a hard time but underneath the harsh exterior she was presenting, you could tell she liked him, too. He had initially planned to transfer to a school in New York, which you more than supported (though you were secretly heartbroken). You reminded him that you had done the phone thing once upon a time and you could do it again, if he wanted. After contemplating it, he decided to stay in Boston. 

“Please don’t tell me you chose to stay because of me. I’m not going anywhere. If it’s a great opportunity for you, you should go. I don’t want you to regret not going.”

He’d simply smiled. “I have a great opportunity right here and I would regret leaving.” He’d kissed your nose. “Besides, Boston’s home.”

“CJ, you should go. I’m almost done and I can come visit you. It’s only a few hours’ drive. You could show me things like the Empire State Building or take me to a museum or a play or show me Times Square.” You’d tried to make it sound enticing but inside it was killing you. Everyone knew long distance relationships had their problems and who knew? Maybe he might meet someone new in the Big Apple. But you also wanted him to do what was right for him, just like you’d spoken with your therapist about. You didn’t want him to resent you later on if he didn’t take this opportunity now and you certainly didn’t want him to have any regrets. “We could even visit Jen and Jack, see how her Grams is doing.”

Jen and Jack had transferred to New York. You had been worried to tell her that you and CJ were dating but while she was a little miffed in the beginning, she was more focused on the developing situation with her grandmother who had been diagnosed with cancer. Eventually, she forgave you before she left and gave you her blessing. You had been relieved; Jen was a good person, a good friend, and you didn’t want to lose her friendship. Jack had been worried about Jen’s reaction but for the most part, he had been fine with it. David was happy for you both. Audrey was doing better these days and though she had wanted to know what the hell you were thinking by shacking up with The Sleaze (as she referred to him), she had eventually told you she loved you and just wanted you to be happy. Joey asked you if you were sure when you told her and when you assured her that you were, she pretty much said the same thing as her former roommate and gave you a hug. She gave you a look when you pulled away and you knew that she had connected the dots on who you really were to CJ, but to her credit, she mercifully never said anything. Pacey and Emma had shrugged (CJ had apologized to Pacey at some point after what happened with Audrey and they had resolved things), wishing you well. Dawson…well, you never really got to know Dawson all that well during his brief visits so no conversation needed to be had there really. All in all, your friends were supportive, even if still a little wary of how things were going to work out. You were happy, though. It was strange but shifting from friends into romance proved to be an easier transition then you thought it would be.

CJ laid his forehead against yours, staring into your eyes, as he stroked your cheek with his thumb. “I’m not going without you.” You went to speak, to remind him you weren’t going anywhere, when he cut you off. “I know what I want. I’m okay with my decision. I need you to be, too.”

You tenderly stroked his arm. “Are you sure?” You whispered, worried he was making a mistake.

“More than sure.” He then pulled you to him for a kiss.

“Okay,” you whispered to his lips before kissing him again.

And now you had met all of his co-workers at The Stand and had seen where he worked a few days out of the week. He had offered to bring you several times before, but you had been hesitant to take him up on it, still worried someone might figure out who you really were. It’s not that you were embarrassed that you had called the helpline for help, but your business was your business and you didn’t want to be seen as that girl CJ got himself through the service. You both obviously knew that wasn’t the case but people talked, people judged, and you just wanted to steer clear of both as long as you possibly could. You knew you shouldn’t care what anyone thought or said, just like CJ didn’t; it was something you were currently working on in therapy. 

“So,” you teased when he finally broke away for air. “Is there a switchboard somewhere that you have somebody directing all the girls to you when they call? Is that how I got you every single time I called?” 

He grinned. “Not exactly. I told everybody that any calls that came in on Fridays at 7:00 were mine.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“Well, how did you know I would call every single time?” You huffed out. “How do you know I might not have gotten held up? Or made plans at the last second? Or got fed up with you?”

He gave you a cocky smirk. “Because you liked talking to me. I could tell.”

You playfully swatted at his shoulder, making him laugh, and rolled your eyes. “It always amazes me that you’re able to make it through doorways with that massive ego of yours. That can’t be how you knew I would call you every time.”

His smirk grew and he nodded. 

“I hate you,” you mumbled. You didn’t really mean it and he knew you didn’t.

CJ pulled you closer up against him. “You have a weird way of showing that.” He inclined his head towards your embrace around his neck. 

“True,” you murmured and kissed him again.

“Plus,” CJ added when you pulled back. “You always said you would call back and I believed you.”

“Better,” you decided. “Though I will begrudgingly admit that I did like talking to you.”

“Like I said, I could—”

“Hush.” You covered his lips with yours and he chuckled into your mouth. When you pulled back this time, you laid your forehead against his, your eyes closed, smiling. “I love you,” you murmured.

“I love you, too” he whispered back to you, lifting up to press a kiss to your brow before you buried your head into his neck and he discreetly snuck his hands under your shirt to rub your back, just the way you liked. 

“Want to get out of here?” He asked you after a few minutes had passed.

“Mmm.” You lifted your head to look him in the eye. “No Fleetwood Mac this time, though.”

He laughed and helped you to your feet. “What have you got against one of the greatest bands of all time?”

“Nothing. It’s just weird to listen to that chorus when we’re about to…you know.” You could feel your cheeks starting to warm.

He grinned salaciously at you. “Oh, I know. Hey, at least it’s not the Star Wars theme.” He snickered at your glare and picked up your hand, kissing it. “No Fleetwood Mac tonight. Got it.” He intertwined your fingers and his grin softened into an affectionate smile before he led you out of there. You quickly made your goodbyes and hurried back to his place where he kept his promise of no rock group music track playing along to your own soundtrack. 

Later, as CJ slept, you repeatedly ran your fingers through his messy hair in soothing strokes as you studied him. Who knew calling the helpline that one Friday night would lead you here? Where you were happy, in love, and doing much better than you ever thought possible? You had gone from feeling overwhelmed by your education to feeling a different type of overwhelmed together. Overwhelming love and affection for the special person in your life; overwhelming gratitude for the progress you’d been able to make in managing your anxiety and panic attacks as best you could; and overwhelming contentment with every single moment, no matter the ups and downs that was best known as life. Regardless of whatever happened from here, you knew you’d be okay and you’d handle whatever was thrown your way. Like CJ had once said, one day at a time.

In his sleep, your boyfriend reached out for you and pulled you in closer to him, snuggling into your side and burrowing into your neck, making you smile.

And to think, you almost hadn’t made that call. You laid your head against CJ’s and closed your eyes. You were so glad you did.